The Reluctant Cowgirl (2 page)

Crystal frowned. “Not really so much.”

“It’s not because they’ve given up on you, honey,” Tina drawled as she smoothed in the foundation on Crystal’s face.

Heat spread from Crystal’s neck to her face. Tina had an uncanny way of taking the words right out of Crystal’s mind and speaking them aloud. She glanced in the mirror and cringed inwardly. Not much chance her embarrassment would escape unnoticed, since the pale makeup clashed violently with her red face.

Tina made no comment about the color change. “Your biggest sin is you’re too hard on yourself.”

“I’m not hard on myself.”

“Yeah, and I’m not from Texas,” Tina drawled as she unfastened the Velcro at Crystal’s neck and whipped the white cape off her with a flourish. “Ta-da. The most beautiful homeless woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Director’s meeting in two minutes,” a deep voice yelled from the hall.

The room erupted into pandemonium.

Cries of, “Throw me my shoes,” and “Does my hair look right?” whizzed across the room like arrows. Tina linked her arm in Crystal’s, and they hurried out the door ahead of the mass exodus.

Five minutes later, Crystal pulled her knees up to her chest as she nestled in the theater seat and listened to Ray reminding them about blocking and cues. Out of habit, she again put her hand to the diamond daisy on a silver chain around her neck. Three months and three bouquets of roses after her agent introduced them and they started dating, she’d finally told Brad she preferred everyday daisies to hothouse roses. When they’d gone to Arkansas for Bree and Aaron’s Valentine’s Day wedding, he’d presented her with the diamond necklace.

She’d laughingly accused him of missing the point. But there was some truth to her accusation. She glanced behind her at the empty theater. The seats just waiting to be filled. Why was it so hard to explain that something as simple as filling a seat and being supportive meant more than expensive gifts?

Ray’s tone shifted, and Crystal’s attention jerked back to the present. “I may be flipping burgers tomorrow, but tonight I’m proud to be your director.” He smiled, but tears glittered in his bloodshot eyes.

Crystal felt her own eyes watering. Starting over was never easy. She thought that was one reason she felt so tired and depressed. Each cast became a family, and closings were almost like divorces.

“Let’s make them sorry they forced us to close.”

Everyone nodded.

“Because if I really do end up being your manager at the little burger joint down at Forty-third and Seventh, we’re both gonna regret it.”

Crystal laughed along with the rest of the cast as they filed out and hugged the director. But by the time the curtain rose a few minutes later, she was back to an emotional train wreck. Hard to believe what high hopes she’d had opening night. Fickle didn’t begin to describe this business. And tired didn’t begin to describe how she felt when the second curtain call was over.

“You are
not
going to miss the farewell party,” Tina insisted as they wiped off their makeup.

“Yes I am,” Crystal assured her, tears too close to the surface to trust a longer explanation. “I’ve already told everyone good-bye.”

Tina stared at her.

Apparently she’d have to risk tears, or Tina wasn’t going to let the subject drop. “I have a splitting headache. And I just need to go home.”

Tina nodded. “Okay. Let me call you a cab.”

Crystal forced a smile. “No cabs for me. I need to save money now. Tomorrow, I’ll be back to waitress pay full-time, if they’ll have me.” In between plays and on her off days, she worked as a waitress at the deli near her apartment. Even though the job brought more blisters and exhaustion than it did tips, for now it was all she had.

“Or you could go home for a couple of weeks ... see what the family meeting brings. Zee and I wouldn’t mind taking a short vacation until you get back.”

Crystal laughed. “Or I could fly to the moon. One’s about as likely as the other.”

Tina grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket. “Fine. Give me a sec to tell Zee I’ll meet him at the party, and I’ll run you home.”

Crystal reached out and touched Tina’s phone. “Thanks, but no thanks. It would take more than the threat of a short walk to the subway to get me on that Hawg.” Tina’s bright red Harley Davidson was three times as big as she was, but she controlled it like it was a bicycle. That still didn’t mean Crystal wanted to get on it.

“Walking in the city’s more dangerous than riding with me. I guarantee you that.”

“I know. But it’s not far. I’ll be fine.”

Tina shrugged. “Girlfriend, when you open the dictionary to the word
stubborn,
if your picture’s not there, it should be.”

“Thanks.” As Crystal walked out the door, she shot her friend an impish grin. “Stubborn is what gets us where we’re going. Especially in this business.”

Jeremy flipped the switch that plunged the downstairs into darkness and carried the phone upstairs with him. A beam of silver light shone through the window at the top of the stairs. He started to his room and stopped, unable to keep himself from going to the room next door instead.

He turned the knob and stepped inside. And waited for the familiar scent. His heart squeezed in his chest. All that was left was the smell of a closed-up room.

He touched the light switch then dropped his hand, allowing the moonlight to soften reality. The twin bed creaked under his weight as he sat and picked up a small gray elephant. With his face pressed against the soft toy, he prayed, words he’d prayed hundreds of times before.

“Amen,” he whispered. He felt a split second of peace before doubt and anger flooded in. He shoved to his feet, frustrated with his inability to control his thoughts. All day long, he worked hard and concentrated on keeping things going on his small cattle farm. But when darkness came, anger—raw fury at Lindsey for turning his life upside down—came with it. Especially on nights like this when bad news was his only companion.

He peered out of the window. In the distance, his mom and dad’s guard light emitted an eerie orange glow. They were good neighbors and normally they minded their own business. His friendship with them was one of the bright spots in his life. But their pain magnified his own. Next time, he’d have Sam meet him somewhere else or just tell him the news—or lack of—over the phone. No use in getting their hopes up over and over.

He glanced upward at the blanket of glistening stars. Was she looking at the same stars? Was she scared? Had she forgotten him?

Outside the theater after saying good-bye to everyone, Crystal automatically looked to the sky. Her daddy always told them that no matter where they were in the world, if they were lost at night, all they had to do was follow the stars. But after sundown in the Big Apple, the bright lights made it seem like day everywhere but in the darkest alleys. And there, the buildings were so tall that even the sky was obliterated by brick and mortar.

She wrapped her jacket tighter around herself and walked faster. Almost as much as she missed her family, she missed the stars. Especially on nights like this. The strong March wind blew a stray flyer across her feet, and she instinctively recoiled then shook her head. Just thinking about home made her jumpy. Maybe that was why she knew her future was in New York City, not on a ranch in Arkansas.

As she reached in her bag to grab her subway pass, her hand closed on the folded newspaper Tina had shoved in there. Once she was on the train, she slid into a seat and unfolded the paper. “
Making a Splash
isn’t making much of a splash with audiences,” she read. “Herman Lowder’s play lacks—”

Crystal frowned and skipped down to where her name was circled in red.

“Despite the fact that
Making a Splash
flops like a fish on dry land most of the time, Lowder’s play has its moments. For instance, any moment where Crystal McCord has face time on the stage. Her performance seems so effortless that one has to wonder if she might really know what it’s like to be homeless and alone.”

She stuffed the paper back into her bag. The last sentence was too close to true for comfort, but at least when her name had finally made it into the review, it wasn’t negative. She felt a strong desire to call someone. But as she went through her list—her agent, her roommate, her mother—she knew the one person she wanted to call wasn’t reachable by phone anymore. What was wrong with her tonight? Maybe the unexpected closing of the play had reminded her too much of other abrupt endings.

She shifted in her seat and pressed in Brad’s number but hit End before it started ringing. Since she hadn’t planned on going to the after-party, she hadn’t texted him at intermission. And he hadn’t contacted her, either. It would do them good to just take the night off. She didn’t have an answer for him yet anyway, and if they got together tonight, he’d probably expect one.

The subway jerked to a halt and she thrust the phone in her bag. Outside, she instinctively glanced at the sky again. To her amazement, two tiny lights flickered, higher than the city spires. Were they stars? “You feel small, don’t you, little guys?” she whispered. “This place is great, but sometimes it does that to you.”

Ten minutes later, she slid her key in the lock and stepped into the two-bedroom apartment she shared with Sabra. A good night’s sleep would help her to make sense of everything.

A giggle followed by a masculine chuckle drifted from Sabra’s closed door.

“Great,” Crystal murmured and walked softly into her own tiny room. Once inside, she shut the door and collapsed onto her bed.

Why had she jumped so quickly into this unofficial rental agreement with her fellow waitress? She stretched out on the soft mattress and knew the answer immediately. The first few years she’d been in the city, she’d lived with four other girls in a boardinghouse room. As the newest paying tenant, her “bed” had been a sleeping bag in the corner. Somehow loneliness in a crowded room is magnified. And she thought she’d smother with it if she didn’t get some privacy. But she’d put one foot in front of the other. And learned to be a better actress.

Eventually, as her roommates had moved on, she’d worked her way up to a real bed, but when Sabra offered to share this rent-control apartment with her, even though Crystal didn’t know her very well, the lure of having her own room had been too much to resist.

In spite of their differences, they got along most of the time, and in fairness to Sabra, the redhead did make a point not to have men in the apartment while Crystal was there. But tonight, thanks to the play going kaput and her skipping the cast party, she was home three hours earlier than expected.

“You pay rent,” she muttered to herself. “You don’t have to hide.” She pulled on an old Razorbacks sweatshirt and a matching pair of maroon sweatpants. When she opened her door, she could hear Sabra talking in her bedroom, so she tiptoed over to the bathroom. Just as she reached it, the door creaked open.

Her breath caught in her throat. Sabra must be on the phone in her room. Unless she had two visitors.

Either way, Crystal stared at the floor. In her peripheral vision, she could see feet and ankles. And thankfully, the tattered hem of a pair of jeans.

She blew out her breath. Not as bad as it could be.

Her gaze traveled up to where the man had frozen in the act of patting his wet hair with a white towel that draped across his tanned chest. She stared at his brown eyes huge in a pale face. Those oh-so-familiar eyes.

Her heart skipped several beats before the metal walls came down around it and the door clanged shut. She was wrong. This was ten thousand times worse than she’d imagined it could be.

“Brad,” she whispered.

Crystal’s hand flew to her daisy necklace and she tried to find the right words to say. She stared at the man who had proposed to her a week ago ... the man who was supposedly still waiting for her answer ... and drew a blank.

She’d shared her heart with this man. Told him things no one else in New York knew. He’d held her while she cried, and for a little while she’d had a semblance of peace.

“Helping Dennis move?” Her heart sat like a heavy block of ice in her chest.

He shook his head. “Crys, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“So you’re not sleeping with Sabra?” Her teeth ground together as she said the name.

He pursed his lips as if considering the question. “Well...”

Even though she’d known the truth the second she saw him with wet hair and just his jeans on, she’d still hoped. Hoped there was some crazy reason for him being here like this. Disgusted with herself for being so naive, she blinked hard against the tears.

He held out his hand. “This was all a mistake. Let me make it up to you. Please.” He widened those brown puppy dog eyes in a way she could never resist.

“Only guess what?” she blurted out. “I’m resisting.”

“What?” he said, his brows drawing together as he reached for her arm.

“Never mind.” She took a quick step back. “Get out.”

He shook his head. “You don’t mean that. You’re just mad. And I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t blame me? Well, that’s mighty big of you.” How could she have thought even for a second that this was the man she was going to marry? She’d wasted a year of her life learning to ignore his little habits that annoyed her. “Some things can’t be ignored.”

Brad looked puzzled again, but then he sighed. “Of course not,” he said soothingly. “I wouldn’t expect you to ignore this. But we can work through it.”

“I hate tennis.”

“What?”

“And brunch.” She knew she was on the verge of hysteria, but that was the thing about hysteria, there was no rhyme or reason. She could feel the hot tears splash onto her cheeks.

His eyes widened. “Brunch?”

“What’s wrong with breakfast? Bacon and eggs, sausage even, with homemade biscuits and gravy?”

He frowned. “Crystal. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” She motioned toward his bare chest. “You’re standing here half dressed, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t intend for this to happen. I love you. It’s just that...”

Betrayal replaced the hysteria with fury. “Just that what?” she snapped. “That Sabra threw herself at you and you couldn’t resist?”

She heard a door behind her open and spun around as Sabra, wrapped in a tiny pink robe, red hair tousled, stepped into the hallway.

“Brad, what’s going on?” Sabra stopped as she saw Crystal.

“Apparently what’s going on is you decided that what’s mine is yours,” Crystal said flatly. “I think a better question might be, ‘How long has this been going on?’”

“Crystal—” Sabra started to say, but shrank back as Crystal stepped toward her.

“How could you?” Crystal didn’t even try to stop the tears now. “When you had the flu, who brought you 7UP? Who sat beside you and held a cold rag on your head? Who cleaned it up when you couldn’t make it to the trash can?” She clutched her stomach, the queasiness easy to remember. “I should have known what kind of friend you were when I got it the next day and you had ‘plans.’”

Sabra’s face paled. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You didn’t mean for me to get the flu either,” Crystal said quietly, “but it still made me sick.”

Brad sighed loudly. “We didn’t do this to you on purpose.”

Crystal turned back around toward him. “No? I thought you loved me. You asked me to marry you!”

He looked from Crystal to Sabra then back again. “Crys...” He shifted from bare foot to bare foot. “I do love you.” His face reddened.

Crystal stared at him, her blood pounding in her ears.
Now
he was embarrassed? Unbelievable.

“You’re the one I want to marry. This...” He gestured toward Sabra without really looking at her. “This means nothing to me.”

Sabra gasped. “Dude. You’re calling me nothing?” she screeched. “I’ll show—”

Crystal spun around and cut her off. “Don’t bail on him now.” She reached up and wrapped her hand around the diamond daisy on her necklace. The feel of it around her neck was like an iron manacle. Gritting her teeth, she pulled, ignoring the pain of the delicate silver chain cutting into the back of her neck. One more yank and she tossed the charm, chain and all, at Sabra’s feet. “Here’s a sign of his deep commitment. It’s all yours.”

Brad started forward. “No! That’s yours.”

Crystal shoved him back then jerked her hand away as she touched his bare shoulder. “Let her have it. She’s earned it. Since I don’t have thirty pieces of silver lying around, this is the best I can do.”

Sabra slouched a little and jutted out her chin. “Crys, he’s right. It didn’t mean anything.” She shot daggers at Brad with her eyes. “To either of us, obviously. It was a mistake—”

How do you sleep with your friend’s boyfriend by mistake?
Crystal thought cynically. Suddenly, her anger waned. She felt too tired to say another word.

Brad took a step toward her. “You know what, honey? I really should go and let you cool down.”

As soon as he said the words “cool down,” white-hot anger flared inside Crystal like a fanned flame. “Yes,
honey.
You should go. Let me get your clothes for you.”

She spun around and marched into Sabra’s room. Her stomach churned as she saw Brad’s folded Hollister T-shirt on the dresser beside his Birkenstock shoes and leather wallet. The neatness screamed of planning and forethought. Pre-meditated betrayal.

Fury pushed her forward. She scooped it all up into her arms. Her gaze fell immediately on the open window. Still holding Brad’s belongings, she stumbled over to look out. Two stories below where people were hurrying by. Going on with their lives. Unaware that hers had taken a major detour.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Look out below.” A couple of people glanced up, but most just kept going.

Brad and Sabra skidded to a stop in the doorway of the bedroom. Crystal plunked his shoes out of the window one by one and glanced back to see her ex-boyfriend watching her with shock. Sabra looked almost bemused, like she wasn’t sure who Crystal was anymore.

“You can’t do that,” Brad said.

“Watch me.” She turned back to glance down at one shoe wedged in a shrub. If she remembered correctly, a prickly holly. She tossed his T-shirt out. The yellow shirt with the white bird on it fluttered to the ground in front of the bushes.

“Not the wallet, not the wallet.” Brad rushed toward her.

“Glad to see
something
is important to you.” She let the shiny black leather billfold slip from her hand and watched with satisfaction as it fell with a
plunk
behind the shrubbery. She was 90 percent sure that was a “sticky bush,” as she and her brothers and sisters always called hollies with sharp leaves.

“You crazy—” he yelled then turned and sprinted shirtless and barefoot down the hall. Within seconds, she heard the front door slam.

She brushed past a speechless Sabra and darted down the hall to her own room. Her breath came in short spurts as she locked the door and leaned against it.

Eyes closed, she imagined the starry night sky, the sound of horses neighing softly in the corral. She pictured the familiar surroundings, focusing on the smell of fresh hay and dirt. For a split second, a memory of Brad there with her for Aaron and Bree’s wedding sliced through her distracting technique, but she pushed it away.

“Crystal,” Sabra whined from outside the door, “you and I have to talk.”

Crystal ignored her and stepped to the closet. She stood on tiptoes and slid her big black overnight bag off the top shelf. She took her three favorite outfits from the closet, rolled them up, and stuffed them in the bag. Three pairs of shoes went in on top of them. She dumped her top drawer in next then jumped back as her gaze fell on a tiny stuffed black-and-white dog.

A sob started, and she wrapped one arm across her stomach. With two fingers, she lifted the toy and tossed it into the trash can. He’d taken her to the carnival only because she insisted that it reminded her of home. Another sob hit and she couldn’t stop it. Finally she just let them wash over her. She worked as she sobbed, tossing in designer jeans, polo shirts, and tees indiscriminately. When the bag was overflowing, she leaned hard against it, slid the zipper shut, and sat on the bed next to it.

The crying stopped as quickly as it started, and she stared at herself in the mirror. It was over. And she had no desire for it to be otherwise. It still hurt, but letting herself feel pain opened up a Pandora’s box she wasn’t ready to face. So for now, she picked up her cell phone and called a cab. Now to face Sabra again.

Clutching her bag and purse, she opened the door. Sabra, looking pretty relaxed on the couch, fumbled for the remote and muted the TV. She jumped to her feet. “Hey.”

“I’ll be back in about a week to get what I can’t carry tonight.” Crystal stopped and looked back. The thought of leaving anything in Sabra’s apartment made her physically ill. “On second thought, I’ll have someone come by tomorrow and get the rest of it.” Tina and Zee would do it. For once, she was glad that she’d accumulated little since she’d left home.

“Seriously?” Sabra said the word like “searslee.”

Crystal grunted under her breath. To think, until she’d bumped into Brad in the bathroom doorway tonight, the most irritating thing about her roommate had been Sabra’s high-pitched slang. Sometimes perspective was a painful concept to grasp.

Sabra blew out a loud breath as if irritated by the whole situation. “Listen. You don’t have to go. Good roommates are hard to find.”

Crystal stared at her. “Tell me about it.”

She hurried out the door without looking back.

Out on the street, a yellow cab was just pulling away. The one she’d called? The thought that someone would steal her cab hit her like the last straw. “Hey!” She whistled and waved.

The yellow car slowed. Crystal yanked the back door open and skidded to a stop. Brad stared up at her. Fully clothed. “Crystal. I’m glad you changed your mind. I love—”

He started to climb out, but Crystal reared back and slammed the door with all her might.

Another cab eased up to the curb and she jumped into it. “Lock the doors, please, and be sure they don’t follow us.” She motioned toward the car in front of them.

The driver’s dark eyes looked puzzled, but he nodded. “Where to?”

“Arkansas.”

He tapped the brakes and met her gaze in the mirror this time. “Ma’am?”

She sighed and collapsed against the worn seat. “The airport.”

He accelerated and she closed her eyes.

She knew she really had no right to ask for help. But right now she didn’t know where else to turn.

Lord, help me, please.

I’m going home.

Jeremy opened his truck door and froze, his hand cupped over the metal frame. Instead of sliding in, he grabbed his hat off the seat and headed for the barn. Maybe being out in the cool morning air would blow away the cobwebs of another restless night.

In his stall, Nacho gazed up at his master and whinnied softly.

“Hey, brother.” Jeremy hooked an easy arm around the paint’s neck. “How ’bout a ride this mornin’?”

He worked quickly in the stillness of the barn, keeping his mind on the familiar task before him, as he saddled the horse. Before Lindsey had taken Beka, he’d often wondered how people go on when they lose someone they love. Now he realized they had two choices. Go on or give up. Quitting was out of the question as long as there was hope. And the only way to keep going, for him anyway, was to consider each new day as another day closer to finding them.

He put his foot in the stirrup and slung himself up onto Nacho’s back. Just like they always did, his anger and worries faded to the background as he and the horse worked together as one.

Tiny splotches of green along the branches of the trees and the short sprigs of grass popping up in old Mr. Marshall’s yard caught his eye as he galloped by. They reminded him of the last picture Beka had colored for him. Almost a year later, the faded paper still hung on his refrigerator, its corners slightly curled.

As he neared the bridge, spring seemed to kick into hyperdrive. More and more green flashed by him. He slowed Nacho to a walk.

Honeysuckle mixed with the scent of the river as they clip-clopped across the wooden bridge. Jeremy took a deep breath. His life was in Sam’s hands, and disappointments like last night made it hard to keep on believing. Over coffee, his mom had accused him of taking on too many jobs in order to keep his mind occupied. He snorted aloud at the memory. Nacho shifted slightly under him, responding to his master’s unease.

As if work could keep his mind off of Beka for more than a second. He helped Jonathan when he could because the McCords were good neighbors, and when it was time to do things on his own ranch or his father’s, Jonathan and the boys were the first ones there.

He laid the reins gently against Nacho’s neck and guided him into the narrow dirt path that led to the McCords’ bottom field. As he neared the moorings of the bridge, a tiny black compact car caught his attention. Who would drive a car like that down a field road? The tags identified the vehicle as a rental. Hair stood up on the back of his neck. This was private property. And none of the McCords would be driving that car.

He shifted his hat back on his head and examined the riverbank. Nobody. “Whoa,” he said softly. Nacho stopped immediately. He patted the horse’s neck as he slid off and let the reins fall to the ground. Some things in life were more certain than others. He knew he could count on the fact that Nacho would be standing right here when he returned.

He’d almost reached the car when he saw her.

Beside a brushy tree on the bank with her back to him, the woman stood as still as a tree herself. Blond hair barely touched her shoulders. Her clothes went with the car, black and way too dressy for this particular locale.