A Cowboy's Heart (16 page)

She'd met hundreds over the last five years. And she'd always managed to keep her distance and not be touched by that charm.

Until now.

“I'm going to take these boys home for a nap.” Clint was unsaddling the horse he'd ridden and Timmy and David were sitting on the ground, leaning against a stall door.

Willow cross-tied the mare in the center aisle for a good brushing. “Do you want me to brush your horse?”

“No, I can take care of him. What about dinner tonight?”

“What about it?”

He glanced over the bare back of the big old buckskin he'd bought. The horse was faded gold with a black mane and tail. Showy, but solid. A cowboy's horse.

“Dinner. What are you doing? Janie is gone, isn't she?”

“She's with her friends.” Willow tossed the currycomb in a bucket and led her horse into the stall. Clint walked up behind her with a scoop of grain. He leaned in past her and filled the bucket.

“Do you want to run into Grove with us?”

“For dinner?” She shrugged.

“You have to eat.”

“Yes, I have to. Okay, sure.”

“If you don't want to…”

She glanced at the boys, now leaning against each other, eyes closing. “Take them home. And yes, I'll go with you. They have great fried chicken at the new diner.”

“Fried chicken it is.”

He led his horse away, out the back door to the gate. Willow watched. She glanced back at the boys and Timmy was awake. He gave her a look and then shifted away. When Clint returned, the boys jumped up, grabbing his hands and mumbling goodbye to her.

Willow watched from the barn as Clint headed down the
road to the foreman's house, a boy on either side, both leaning against him.

It was a picture she'd like to have hanging on the wall of her office, the cowboy in his faded jeans, T-shirt and white cowboy hat, and two little miniatures walking next to him down a dusty country road. For a minute it almost felt like they belonged in her life in a forever kind of way.

She allowed herself to have that dream, of being loved forever. She thought it might feel like this, like a summer afternoon in the country and a man who was always there. It had been a long, long time since she'd daydreamed of cowboys and forever. Sixteen years to be exact.

It could only be a dream.

She walked across the road to the house, Bell following at her heels, a stick in the dog's mouth. Bell was an optimist, always believing someone would take the hint and throw the stick. Willow leaned and grabbed it from the slobbering dog, regretting it immediately. She tossed the stick and wiped her hands on her jeans. The dog ran across the yard. Rather than bringing the stick back, she took it to a hole she'd dug and lay down with it.

Willow walked up the front steps of the house, listening to quiet country sounds that were even now fading. She sighed, because she didn't want to think about it all being gone.

Silence. She'd spent two days in a world of complete silence until she got new hearing aids. And soon it would be permanent.

She would survive. Because God was with her, always. Even in the silence.

And if there was a miracle, she prayed it was for Jenna, bringing her home to her boys.

Janie wasn't at home. Willow walked through the empty house, thinking about the time when Janie would move. She hadn't allowed herself to really contemplate that day, and what it would mean to her.

Now she did. As she sat in the living room under the gentle push of air from the ceiling fan, she thought about living in this house, in silence. Alone.

She closed her eyes and thought about the business she'd built, and holding on to independence. And for a minute, just a minute, confidence faded and she felt afraid.

She wouldn't be able to hear the telephone or the radio. She wouldn't be able to hear the announcer at bull-riding events.

Everything she'd lost, and would lose, coiled around her heart. Brad. The baby. Now her hearing, and maybe her business. She'd thought Brad would love her forever. She had believed they would have children and a family that laughed together. She had never dreamed she would lose her hearing completely.

Her mind snaked back to thirty minutes ago, thinking about Clint in her life forever. She had let go of those dreams until he walked into her life again. And now, how did she go back to being content with this life she had chosen, living on this ranch, raising bulls and being single?

“God, get me through this,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “Give me peace that surpasses all understanding, and show me your will for my life, so that I don't feel so alone.”

The fan continued to swish cool air from the air conditioner, and Willow drifted off.

 

Clint dozed off in the recliner, feet up, two boys on his lap. When he woke up one arm was asleep. The other was empty. He blinked and sat up, sort of. He moved his head and then his arm, the arm Timmy had slept on. Stiff.

He moved it a few times, bending and clenching his fist. David slept on the other arm. He moved the little boy, who moaned and curled up as Clint got out of the chair. He reached for a blanket on the couch and draped it over David.

Timmy. He peeked in the kitchen. No sign of the missing twin.
On the way down the hall, toward the bedrooms, he turned the temperature up on the thermostat.

No sign of Timmy in the bedroom. No need to panic. He could picture his nephew sneaking outside to play with Bell, or with toy cars. He couldn't see him wandering too far from the house.

He walked out the front door and stood on the porch. No sign of the missing twin. The yard was dusty from lack of rain, and humidity hung in the air like a wet rug, weighing down the atmosphere. Clint wiped a hand across his already-perspiring brow.

“Timmy!” He cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted into late afternoon silence. “Timmy!”

No answer.

He walked back into the house, the screen door banging behind him. David was sitting in the recliner, holding on to the blanket like it was a lifeline.

“David, do you know where Timmy went?”

David shook his head, but his eyes were big, and Clint wondered.

“David, buddy, this is dangerous. If you know, you have to tell me.”

The little boy shook his head again, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Clint didn't blame him. He felt a lot like crying, too. But someone had to be the grown-up. And that seemed to fall on him.

“Come on, let's go to Willow's.” Clint picked up David's shoes, and the little boy slid them on. And then he raised his arms to be carried.

Clint walked down the road to Willow's, searching the fields on either side for the figure of a little boy. David clung to his neck, wiry legs wrapped around his waist. The boy sucked his thumb, and Clint didn't stop him.

Timmy could be anywhere. He could be in the barn, or with Willow. He could have gone in with the bulls. Clint told himself Timmy wouldn't do that.

But then again, an hour ago, he wouldn't have thought Timmy would take off while everyone else was sleeping. So where did that put Clint on the parenting scale? Not too high, he figured.

He pounded on Willow's front door, and she didn't answer. That gave him hope. Maybe Timmy had gone to her and the two were together. He knocked again. Still no answer. He pushed the door open and looked in.

Willow was asleep in the living room, stretched out in a chair with her feet on the ottoman. He stepped into the room and hesitated above her, looking down at a face peaceful in sleep and every bit as beautiful as when she was awake.

He knelt, setting David on the edge of the ottoman and reached for Willow's hand. She shifted and then jumped a little. Her smile was sleepy, unguarded.

“Waking me like that could get you hurt.” She sat up, pulling her knees to her so that David had more room.

“I can't find Timmy. I woke up from a nap and he was gone.”

Willow moved, reaching for the shoes next to her chair. “We'll find him.”

“I'm going to head down the road on foot. Could you check the barn?”

She slid on her shoes. “Of course I can. I'll take my cell phone so you can call if you find him.”

 

Willow walked out the barn, David tagging along behind her. She surveyed the fields, and the pens that held bulls. She prayed she wouldn't see him anywhere near the bulls. He knew better. Of course he did.

“David, did your brother say anything about leaving or doing something?”

“No.” The child reached for her hand. “He just wants Mom to come home. So do I.”

“I know, honey. But did he say something about playing outside, or doing something without telling any of us?”

David shook his head. “No, he just wonders how far away Iraq is.”

“It's a long way.”

Bell ran out of the barn. Willow reached down to pat the dog. If anyone knew where Timmy was, it was probably Bell. And that didn't do them a lot of good.

She flipped on lights as they walked through the doors of the barn. Something moved, catching her attention. She squinted as her eyes adjusted from bright sunlight to the dim recesses of the barn.

It might have been her imagination, or not. She thought a door closed on one of the stalls, just barely. David's hand was still in hers, and they hurried toward the stall that held her mare.

The horse whinnied, and she heard a thump. Willow let go of David's hand and ran to the stall. She peeked in, afraid of what she might see, afraid that the horse had hurt the child.

The noise had been caused by an overturned bucket. Willow smiled down at Timmy, who was trying to steady the upside-down bucket. The mare had a bridle on her head, the bit under her mouth, not in. No saddle.

“Timmy, what are you doing?”

Timmy frowned at her. “I'm going to find my mom. Uncle Clint is just going to leave her over there lost, and she isn't going to come home if someone doesn't go get her.”

Big, brave words and a child's broken heart. How had he found out? Willow opened the door and spoke quietly, reassuring the horse who was trembling and holding steady as the little boy leaned against the mare's side, obviously thinking he could ride her bareback.

Willow picked him up and scooted the bucket out the door. She pulled the bridle off the horse, slid a hand over the mare's
neck and then backed out of the stall with the sobbing four-year-old in her arms.

“Shhh, sweetie, it's okay.”

Timmy shook his head against her neck, and tears soaked her skin. “I want my mom.”

“I know you do.” And it was Clint's place to tell the boys everything. Willow reached into her pocket for her phone and speed-dialed Clint's number. When he answered she choked back a sympathetic sob. “He's here, in the barn. He isn't hurt, but he's hurting.”

Because somehow he had overheard that his mother was missing.

 

Clint ran from the main road back to the barn. When he walked through the doors, he took a deep breath and slowed down. He walked toward Willow and the boys.

Timmy and David sat on the bench next to Willow. The boys didn't look at him. Willow shrugged, and her smile wavered. He grabbed the five-gallon bucket next to the bench, turned it over and sat down facing the boys.

“What's up, guys?”

Timmy looked up, his eyes and nose red from crying. He swiped a hand across his face. “I want you to go find my mom.”

Clint swallowed and nodded, taking a few minutes to process the comment. “Well, kiddo, I can't do that. I can't go to Iraq. And your mom wouldn't want me to leave you alone.”

Clint would have liked nothing better than to hop on a plane and go to Iraq to look for his sister. He couldn't tell that to the boys, or tell them how worried he was.

“We're fine here with Willow.” A four-almost-five-year-old's logic. It sounded like it made perfect sense.

“I can't leave you here, partner. And there are real soldiers looking for your mom.” How had the boys found out? “Timmy,
you have to tell me what's going on. How do you know your mom is lost?”

“Missing. She's missing. I heard the word at church and then when you were talking on the phone. You said she's still missing. And I think guys shouldn't leave sisters alone.”

“And I agree. But when guys make a promise, like the one I made to your mom, we have to keep those promises.”

David didn't comment.

“David, buddy, do you understand that?”

David shook his head.

“Timmy, do you understand?”

Timmy shook his head. “No. I just want my mom.”

“I know, buddy, I know. And I want her to come home. I think we should pray. That's the most important thing we can do, pray.”

He held his arms out, and Timmy climbed onto his lap.