Buy a Cowboy (16 page)

Her nod was forceful enough to flatter him.
She wants me with her.

As unreasonable as the thought was it satisfied something in him. “Why is this so important to you?”

Optimism lit her face. “I want to be a good parent and have the children grow up right. And I think church, community, and family are very important for that.”

“You mean a social life.”

“That too. Baya, I believe in God, and that we strengthen our faith through being around others who feel the same. He loves people for who they are, and I believe the family needs to hear that God loves them. We should have understanding and comfort—church is important for this reason alone. We need to show a united front about this. You said you believed in God, too.” Her tone was gentle, but reproving.

“I do believe in God. It's just…” He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. Maybe she didn't need to know his knowledge of God was as a distant father who only watched over him, nothing more. “We need to show a united front here in the house as well, Bonnie,” he countered with a frown.

Her forehead tightened in indignant anger. “I didn't kick you out of my room. You never showed up.” Her voice trembled with self-righteousness.

The deep rumbling laugh rolled out of his chest. “So you missed me.”

“I didn't say that.” She turned away.

“Well, I missed you.” He slipped his arms around her from behind, and he nuzzled her neck. “Though that wasn't the united front I was talking about.” He paused to let that sink in before continuing. “In a very practical way, we need to discuss how we're going to run this ranch. We need to understand each other about what kind and how much work you allow the children to do. I need guidelines. I've thought about it and I may be asking too much of them. I thought you believed in hard work because Faith is so capable, but I may have overstepped my bounds.”

She turned in his arms, pushing him back to make eye contact with him. “I was surprised yesterday. I shouldn't have questioned you. And you were right: they do need to learn to work. There's so much I don't know about running a ranch. I promise to help more.”

Smiling he gazed into her face. “You're the most generous woman I've ever met. I'm glad I married you.”

A blush swept over her and her lips parted. “Are you?” The question was little more than a sigh.

“Er…” He closed his mouth and then opened it again. “Bonnie, the way you cook is enough to have me glad I married you. Everything else is a bonus.” He watched the joy drain from her face and quickly added, “And what a bonus it is.” He kissed her, trying to head off the reprimand he knew was coming for his almost slip into bad language.

She returned the kiss, though the moment they moved apart, she tapped his mouth. “Watch your language.” She looked at him warily a few moments as he rolled his eyes. “Do you really mind going to church so much?”

“I'll go to church with you Sunday morning.” He answered the statement with one of his own. “You go dancing with me on Saturday.”

“What?”

“I go to church. You come to the dance with me. OK?”

She rubbed her cheek against his bare chest before stepping away. “I can't see why not, as long as I won't embarrass you.”

“Embarrass me? What are you talking about?”

“Ed was always ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Why'd he feel that way?”

She walked into the pantry and a muffled reply came out. “I wasn't pretty enough.”

“
What?
Bonnie, you're beautiful. You took my breath away the first day we met. There must be another reason.”

“He said I was too old for anyone to look at twice.”

“Come on. No one would say that.”

“He said no one would ever be interested in me, that I had too many kids.” Her voice cracked as the first tears rolled down her face. “He said I couldn't cook and was impossible to live with.”

He reached her in one long step and picked her up in his arms. Turning back to his room, he carried her in and put her on the bed. She slowly turned away from him as her crying came in bursts of hurt, and he curled around her and rubbed her back.

After a while, she lay still.

He continued to provide that simple comfort, trying to reason out why anyone would say such things. Like dawn creeping over the mountains, he began to understand that she had been stronger than he had ever realized; she'd harbored all of these hurts and hidden them from the children. She didn't need him to lecture her.

“Bonnie, I don't know why someone would say such a thing. I am proud to be married to you. Maybe you're afraid that I will have the same attitude once we make love. If that's what you are afraid of, we'll wait.” He continued in a soft murmur. “I want you to know I love being part of this family. I haven't a clue how to be part of it, but I have loved it so far. Faith amazes me. Daniel keeps me hopping and Hope fills me with joy. I find myself hung somewhere between fear and amusement with you. It is like a roller coaster ride. I haven't any idea what to do to make this marriage a success. I just know I want it to work.”

Bonnie relaxed and then shifted so she was spooned into him. “I like having you hold me.” Quietness settled over them for so long he wondered if she had fallen asleep, but then she spoke again, “I want a companion, a friend. I want to know you. I feel that God has planned something between us, I think…I think it might be love. And it makes me afraid, because I still have questions about you, about us, about all of this. Love wouldn't have questions, would it?”

“We probably do need another week to work through some of our differences,” he said with a sigh. “We need to meet somewhere in the middle.”

She stirred lazily in the lingering silence. “You said you've never had a family, but when I met you and asked about your name you said you were the Third.”

He rubbed his face against her hair. “Hmm, my father and mother died in an automobile accident. I was sent to live with my paternal grandfather, Ben the First. I'd always been called Baya and he didn't change it. Apparently, I couldn't say Benjamin as a child and called myself that.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I was only there for a few years before he died.”

“You were in your teens?”

“About eleven.”

“You must have family somewhere.”

“I went into foster care. Finally, I got a job with a quarter horse ranch and from there I went to rodeo.”

“Was it pretty bad?”

“I did all right. Even graduated high school and went to Junior College for a couple of years. I almost graduated with a degree in Agricultural Science.”

“You must've had a good reason for not graduating.”

“I couldn't swing the tuition.” He could feel his bitter smile and took a calming breath. “Besides, grandfather's ranch had been sold for back taxes, by then. I had nothing to graduate for. No ranch to do the work I'd done most of my life.”

“It must have been a beautiful place.”

“No, but it was the only home I had known. He shifted back on his side to wrap around her. “It was farther south than we are. But on the face of the earth, this is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. And, Bonnie, I've seen a lot of earth.”

She settled against him. “We could make a list of what we want to have happen with the farm.”

“Ranch,” he corrected lightly.

“OK, ranch. If we each make a list and sit down to talk it over, we can find a compromise. We also need to figure our finances and work on our goals that way, too.” She drew back enough to search for understanding on the tanned face beside her.

He stared at her a moment before nodding his head. Thoughts rushed back to seeing her for the first time at the diner. Strength and warmth were there, but also a generous, giving nature. He had thought then that having the ranch was the greatest goal in the world. Now it slipped into second place behind the woman and children. Family. Home. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her. He smiled and rolled off the bed. “Let's get breakfast going—I'll cook today. What do I wear to church?”

12

Baya had been to church long ago, during one of his tenures in foster care. It was then he'd accepted Christ and thinking on that, he wondered if that had more to do with seeking approval of his foster parents rather than feeling God's grace. With that thought, Baya gave a soft “hmph” and pondered his belief in the Almighty. He did believe. But how had he actually come to have faith in his Lord?

The muted scent of hymnals and freshly ironed shirts mingled with the low murmur of voices. A memory niggled along the back of his brain. Two adults with him in the middle. He glanced down at Daniel next to him and wrapped his arms more securely Hope, who had climbed into his lap. His gaze settled on Bonnie as she listened attentively to the pastor.

This was family. His parents' images popped into his mind, faded with time, loving hands holding his, telling him the story of Jesus. In a moment of clarity, he realized his initial belief came from them. He suddenly felt close to his parents as he peered at Faith reading in her Bible.

The congregation stood to sing a hymn, and he adjusted accordingly, letting Hope rest her feet on the back of the pew. He vaguely remembered th
e
song, too.

They shook hands with the pastor on their way out and he mentioned that he'd come see them, once they were settled.

Pastor clutched Bonnie's hand. “I knew your grandparents, they were members here. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Bonnie murmured.

The pastor then shook Baya's hand, high-fived Daniel, and then Faith. Hope held out her hand, too. With a laugh, the pastor squeezed her little palm between his own right after Baya set her down on the church steps.

Within minutes, Bonnie was hustling Faith and Hope in front of her as she smiled and answered comments from members of the congregation.

Daniel was racing a young boy toward a gnarled scrub oak.

Before Baya could call him back, the kid had shed his shoes and was climbing the knobby trunk. Baya walked over and plucked Bonnie's…his squirming son off the lowest branch.

Beside him, a thicker man was holding the shoulder of the other culprit.

They exchanged nods at the boys' antics.

Something warmed in Baya's heart…affection for the boy…and the man's easy acceptance of his fatherhood. The wonder of that feeling buoyed his very soul.

Bonnie came over in a rush, her cheeks pink, either from embarrassment or exertion.

Faith, dragging Hope with her, interrupted, chatting inanely about someone named Mary she had met.

As Bonnie hushed her daughter, a laughing woman greeted her.

“So you have one, too.” She held out a hand, the other firmly holding a toddler on her hip. “I'm Carol. The wild one is Dave.”

Daniel chose that moment to escape.

Baya sent another nod to the silent man, before turning to run ramrod on the boy's exuberance. He almost tripped over Hope. Startled he stopped, caught by the ugly faces she was making at the boy Carol held. He snatched her up, casting a sideways look to see if the woman had noticed Hope's rudeness.

She had, and she was grinning. “Stop making faces at each other, both of you,” she said easily, tapping her little boy's cheek.

Bonnie seemed to be holding in a laugh, but said nothing about the woman correcting their children.

Was this a common occurrence amongst kids and moms? He had a lot to learn.

“Come on, Faith,” Baya said, snatching Daniel's arm as he ran past the group again. “Let's get these two in the car.”

~*~

Bonnie leaned into the headrest of the station wagon, her heart overflowing from the warmth of the parishioners, and the fact that the pastor knew her grandparents, a connection she'd not expected.

The children chattered about kids they'd met, showing a tender curiosity about making friends and talking about when school would start.

Baya said nothing, but loosened the tie and unbuttoned his collar as he started the car.

And part of the gentle warmth around her heart was stirrings of love. She was beginning to trust Baya. Several times during the sermon, he would stir to adjust Hope, who stayed in his lap, and Bonnie would be reminded of his presence, his completing of the family. After church, he'd snagged her boy with a tolerant, amused expression and without her prompting…just like any father would have done.

Hope unbuckled her seat belt and scrambled over the front seat to nestle against her mother.

“Next time, get in front with us,” Bonnie admonished. “You aren't to get out of your carseat when the car is moving.” Bonnie pulled the center seatbelt out of the crevice and fastened the child in securely.

“OK, Mommy.” Hope's thumb went into her mouth.

They crested the hill into their valley and Baya slowed the car.

Remembering the conversation of the morning, her smile deepened. “A beautiful piece of earth,” she breathed.

Baya returned her smile. “Our earth.” He released the brake and they bounced down the road missing the potholes.

There was a car in front of the house.

“Daddy!” Daniel shouted.

The car had barely stopped when Faith and Daniel shoved open the door and ran to the man rising from the porch swing.

Bonnie turned a panicked gaze to Baya. “What is he doing here? He'll try to take them away. I know he will.”

A warm, tan hand covered her trembling one. “I won't let him.”

“What do we do?” she asked, worried.

“We'll bed him down in the bunkhouse and make sure he's welcomed. For now, keep him occupied outside. Have the children take him to see the barn and all their favorite places.”

She murmured an agreement and opened the car door.