My True Cowboy (4 page)

For the most part. “Where's the party?” she asked, mainly to get Betsy's focus off her.

“At Buffalo Bob's. Do you know it?”

“Nope. But it's got a catchy name.”

“It's a play on Buffalo Bill, you know,” Betsy said earnestly. “Anyway, Bob's is a honky-tonk down the way.” Betsy's eyes lit up as if it was her birthday. “Every Labor Day, they put on a big ol' party. A real celebration. I'm telling you what, it's a good time. Susan, there's even gonna be fireworks!”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It's a hoot, that's what it is. Lots of people will be there. You're missing out.”

“I know.” It did sound fun. She used to look forward to Friday nights like no other. There was something to be said for kicking up her heels and letting off steam, and she'd done her fair share of that.

Well, she had until she'd become a mother. Now, sipping a glass of wine with her feet up and a good book sounded like heaven. With maybe a man rubbing her shoulders, too. Maybe even rubbing other places, too, she mused, her mouth going dry.

Gosh, how long had it been since she'd been on the receiving end of a man's tender touch?

Still chatting about the bar, Betsy threw back the rest of her beer, then added, “Susan, it's gonna be such a party. I heard even Cal Riddell might show up.”

Susan almost choked on her beer. “You're kidding.”

“I'm not.” Betsy set down her Bud. “Wait a minute. You're acting like you know something I don't. Do you actually know Cal Riddell?”

“Yes.” Though she sure wished she didn't.

Betsy's golden eyes lit up. “Oh, honey. That's awesome! Isn't he gorgeous?”

He…was. But that didn't really matter.

“Are you friends with him?”

“Not so much.”

Lowering her voice, Betsy leaned forward. “To tell you the truth, I tried to be more than friends with his brother a few months ago, but he blew me off.”

“Brother?”

“Trent. He's a legit rodeo star.”

“Wow. I didn't know that.”

“So, don't you think that Cal Riddell is something else?”

It was a struggle to not offer her opinion. “He was something, all right.”

“My goodness, but he's a fine looking man. Six foot three, black hair, blue-gray eyes…” Betsy fanned the air for emphasis. “And the way he talks. I swear, his voice is so deep. And that slow drawl, it's enough to curl your toes.”

Susan had noticed that drawl.

“And, well, he's rich as sin, too.”

Though she was telling herself she couldn't care less about that man, Susan couldn't help but catch hold of Betsy's latest tidbit. “He's rich?”

“Hell, yes! And we're not talking rich like he-can-take-a-vacation-whenever-he-wants rich. We're talking rich enough to-buy-himself-a-plane-and-pilot rich.” After a pause, Betsy said softly, “He's rich enough to support a wife in the way she'd like to be accustomed to.”

Though she was vaguely disturbed by Betsy's words, Susan elected to ignore them. “Hmm,” she said simply. “I really had no idea.”

“You still don't. Sue, he's
Cal Riddell,
as in the
Riddell Ranch.
”

Betsy said that as if he was a celebrity or something. Well, she, for one, had never heard of the Riddells or their infamous ranch.

Come to think of it, she wouldn't shed a tear if she never heard of the place again. Choosing her words carefully, Susan said, “Actually…I wasn't all that impressed with him.”

“Get out.”

“I'm serious. We shared a table in the cafeteria at the hospital when Hank was getting tests done. The whole time, rich Cal Riddell couldn't have been ruder.”

“That's not like him. Usually, he hardly ever talks. It's part of his charm, you know.”

Susan wished he'd been a little more quietly charming. Though… “He was a little nicer when our paths crossed at the hospital today.”

“See?”

“He was nice until he insulted me.”

“Uh-oh.”

Though Susan realized she was ranting, she just kept on going. “Uh-oh is right. He's the biggest jerk alive. I hope I never see him again.”

“You ought to get those eyes of yours cleaned. He's a catch and a half.”

“Not for me. I certainly don't want to catch him. I just want to stay out of his way.”

“I bet you'll feel differently about him once y'all dance. I'd feel all kinds of things for him if I pressed up against him real close.”

Susan couldn't imagine the man she'd met unbend enough to dance at all. She couldn't even imagine trying to have a conversation with him in a bar! Nor did she ever want to try.

So, if she couldn't imagine any of that…why could she definitely imagine what it would feel like to be pressed up close to him?

She cleared her throat. “Unfortunately, I won't be dancing with anyone tonight. But you be sure and tell me how the party is.”

Betsy looked her over and frowned. “Susan, you need to put yourself out there if you want to meet anyone.”

“I know. And I have been meeting people. I've met a lot of people at work, you know.”

“Doctors and old people don't count.”

Before Susan could dispute that, Betsy picked up her empty bottle and stood. “Well, I need to go shower and get cute.” Shaking her spiky red hair, she grinned. “This magic don't happen on its own, you know.”

“Have fun, Betsy.”

With a little wave, her friend turned and disappeared through the hedge.

And left Susan thinking about a long Friday night with nothing to do but sit and stew. And to wonder what it
would be like to actually have money to spend on clubs and parties.

And to wonder how her life might have been different if Hank's dad had decided to stay.

Sunday brought church and another hospital visit. As Cal held Ginny's hand while she skipped down the hall, he prayed again for patience.

Praying for patience was pretty much a constant thing now, though he wasn't sure if anyone was actually listening to him. Lately, all he seemed to be doing was biting his tongue while everyone else gave him grief.

Or told him their troubles. Or asked for more than he could give. Frankly, Cal had a feeling all his tolerance for the year had been used up sometime during the second week of January. From that point on, he'd been living on borrowed time.

“We're almost there, Junior,” Ginny announced, skipping along by his side on her tippy-toes. “We're almost at Daddy's door.”

“Uh-huh.”

“When I see him, I'm going to give him a big hug.”

“You know you can't do that,” he warned. “He's had surgery, remember?”

“But you said he was better!”

“His heart is, not his mood.” As Ginny struggled to digest that tidbit, Cal directed her over to the side of the hallway and knelt down on one knee. The last thing in the world he wanted was for Ginny to get her feelings hurt.

And because their dad was in no condition to watch his mouth, Cal figured his little sister should be prepared for the worst. “Ginny, honey, I just want to warn you that Dad's been in a bear of a mood. So, he might not be super happy to see us. You know what I mean?”

“No. He's always happy to see me.”

She had a point there. If anyone could make the old man be almost companionable, it was his little sister. “He will be happy to see you, but he might forget to act like it.” Or tell her, Cal added grimly. Actually, that was probably putting it kindly. In the years since Cal's mother passed away, his father had gradually lost whatever town polish he'd slapped on when he got rich and spent time in Dallas.

With every passing month, Cal Sr. seemed to care less about offending people and more about saying what was on his mind.

And there was always a lot on Dad's mind. Nowadays, he didn't watch his tongue in the best of situations. And when Dad was really in a mood, well, all bets were off that anything kind and sweet would pass through his lips.

Chances were good that this was one of those days.

When they started walking again, Ginny slipped her hand in Cal's. “Junior?” she said with a tug.

“Hmm?”

“You're frowning. Aren't you happy to see me, too?”

Taking a knee again, he pulled her into a tight hug. “I'm always happy to see you. Always.”

She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his neck, the way she always did. “And Jarred and Trent, too?”

“Of course. Sugar, Dad loves you, too. He's just a grump sometimes.”

“A grumpy Gus.”

“Yep. Okay now, let's go see how he's doing,” he murmured when they finally got to their dad's door.

Slowly twisting the handle, he peeked in. “Dad?”

Lying on the bed, looking beat-up and pissed off, Calvin Sr. glared his way. “I'm here. Where else would I be?”

Cal matched his father's glare with one of his own. “Ginny's here with me. She wanted to come see you.” Cal made sure he put the emphasis on
she,
just so his dad would know that Cal's patience was up and gone.

Before he could give his father any additional warning glances, Ginny broke free from his hand and scampered in. “Hey, Daddy!” she hollered. Surely loud enough to wake the patients down the hall.

Quickly Cal reached for her but was too late. “Gin—” he warned. “Watch—”

She either didn't hear or didn't care to abide his warning, because she was flying toward the bed like a bullet.

Ready to jump and cause a heap of trouble….

“Stop!” Calvin called out, his face full of alarm.

Ginny skidded to a stop. “Daddy?”

“You settle down, girl. You're in the hospital, not the circus. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” she said meekly, then turned Cal's way.

As he saw her bottom lip begin to quiver, he took two steps forward and reached for her hand again. “Remember how I said Daddy's had surgery?” he murmured as their father continued to scowl. “You've got to move a whole lot slower in here. You could have hurt him.”

Turning back to their dad, Ginny started moving in slow motion. “Is this better, Daddy?”

She looked ridiculous. But instead of smiling Ginny's way, their dad glowered at him. “Why did you bring her?”

Ginny stopped again. Cal placed a reassuring hand on
her shoulder. “I brought her because she wanted to see you. Though, with the way you're acting, I don't know why.”

Twin spots of color appeared on their father's cheeks.

When they were stopped in front of his bed, Ginny let go of Cal's hand and placed both of hers on the bars surrounding the hospital bed. “You don't look good, Daddy.”

“Thanks. I don't feel good.”

“Cal says you're grumpy 'cause you don't like people messing with your heart, on account it don't work too well. What was wrong with the old one?”

“I smoked and ate too much.”

Ginny paused a bit, digesting that bit of news. Then she rose on her tiptoes and stared at his chest. “Do you have a scar?”

“I do.”

“Is it big?”

“It is.”

She leaned forward, turning her head slightly so her eye was peeking out through the bars on the side of the bed. “Can I see it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Slowly, their father raised his eyes to Cal's and sighed. “You can't see it because it's all bandaged up.”

“But you'll be all better soon?”

To Cal's relief, their father chuckled. “I think so, darlin'.”

After a moment, Ginny rearranged herself in front of the metal bars again. Now, as she peered at her daddy through the openings, Cal imagined she looked like a prisoner in a jail cell. “So, are you happy to see me now?”

Cal held his breath. There was no telling what his dad was going to say to that. His father was in extreme pain, and possibly loopy from medication, too. Mentally, he
cursed himself. He should have known better than to bring his little sister in. All this was going to do was aggravate their father and cause Ginny unnecessary grief.

And then he, of course, was going to have to deal with it.

But then, in the blink of an eye, Cal watched his father's whole disposition change yet again. Gone was the pissed-off expression, the frown between his salt-and-pepper brows. In its place was the kind of sweet, special smile Cal only saw when his father worked with his prized gelding, Vixen, or talked with Ginny. “Of course I am. You never fail to brighten my day.” Reaching out, he tapped her knuckles. “Whatcha been doing? Have you been a good girl?”

“I've been helping Cal around the house. I've been helping Gwen, too. We made Rice Krispie treats.” She swiveled her head and looked up at him. “I've been real good, right?”

Cal nodded slowly. “Pretty good.”

“How many fights?”

Ginny stuck up her finger. “Only one this week, and the playground aide didn't even look that upset about it.”

Cal pressed his hands on Ginny's shoulders. “Ginny's only gotten four time-outs this week, too.”

Their dad's eyes lit right up in amusement, though Cal could see he was trying hard to be serious. “Virginia Ann, you're more trouble than all three of your brothers combined! What am I ever going to do with you?”

She looked down at her feet. “I don't know.”

“Come now. What do I always say?”

Slowly, she looked up at her dad. “Love me a lot?”

Calvin's smiled widened, but Cal noticed that it also looked strained. “That's a fact. When I get home, we'll have to watch TV together.”

“Okay.
The Biggest Loser
's on again.” She and her daddy were reality-show junkies.

“What about
Survivor?
”

“I'm not sure. Cal hasn't let me watch it since that man took off all his clothes and that boy and girl started kissing in the dark.”

“It really wasn't appropriate for a six-year-old, Dad.”

“Good TV, though,” his dad remarked. “But, uh, probably not so good for little girls. Your brother's just lookin' out for you.”

“But you'll watch TV with me soon?”

“Of course, sweetheart. It's a date.”

Ginny leaned closer, eyeing the IV tube. “Does that hurt?”

“Nah.”

“Just your heart?”

“Just my heart. And my ribs.”

“Poor Daddy.” Ever so slowly, one by one, her fingers loosened on the bed rail and she thrust her hand through. “I've missed you.”

“I've missed my little girl, too.” He reached out a hand. “Come here, pumpkin. Come hold my hand for a sec.”

She did as he asked, her tentative expression morphing into a full-blown grin as she stepped closer.

Cal took the empty seat and let the two of them have their time together. In a way that he'd never done with his boys, Calvin Sr. asked Ginny a dozen questions and listened intently to each answer. Within five minutes, he'd heard all about school and her dolls and even got an update on Spot—the puppy Jarred's girlfriend, Serena, had brought home. “You're not letting that dog chew up my slippers, are you?”

Ginny's little mouth formed a circle. “Oh, no, sir.”

“That's good.” He yawned. “I'm getting tired now and
you need to get out of this hospital. There's sick people everywhere. Before you know it, they're going to make you sick, too. Now, is your brother going to take you to lunch? Because I think visiting folks here should at least earn you a meal.”

Cal stood up. “I am. We're going to go get shakes and burgers at the Sonic, aren't we?”

“And go to Shop-N-Go. Cal said maybe I could get some new crayons.”

“If you do, will you draw me a picture?”

Ginny's face lit up as if her daddy had just given her the sun and the moon. “Uh-huh. I'll bring it next time.”

“I'll look forward to it.”

Their dad looked to be fading fast, so Cal cleared his throat. “It's time, sugar.”

“Bye, baby,” Dad said.

Ginny blew him a kiss, then trotted back over to Cal. “I'm ready now.” She peeked out the door, then turned back to Cal. “The nurses' station has suckers. Can I go get me one?”

“You may.”

When they were alone, his dad looked like the grumpy old man that he was once again. With a ragged sigh, he leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. “That girl. She's everything and a day, ain't she?”

Cal smiled. “Yes, sir.”

“Really only four time-outs?”

“That's all I've heard from her teacher.” Cal shrugged. “'Course, the year's just starting. Ginny might be starting off slow. You know…breaking her teacher in slowly.”

His dad looked as if he was trying to look perturbed, but his eyes were glowing. “Maybe I should've told her no more often.”

“I tell her no all the time. It doesn't seem to do much good.”

“Perhaps you've got a point.”

“Dad, do you need anything?”

“Only the same things as ever. I need to get pain free and out of here. I'm ready to go home.”

Except, he wasn't going to be able to go home anytime soon.

But because he wasn't ready to bring that up, Cal concentrated on his dad's pain. “Want me to call for the nurse?”

“Nah, I'll push my button when y'all leave.” After a moment, he murmured, “I'm glad you brought our girl here, son. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. She loves you.” Briefly, Cal wondered why it was so easy to talk about Ginny's love but not his own. Now was the time to tell him about Trent, but the words stuck in his throat. “So, Dad, we got a phone call….”

“What happened? Was it the accountant?”

“No. Business wise, everything's fine.” Cal paused. “It's about Trent. Dad, Trent got hurt in Albuquerque.”

“Oh, I know that,” he said wearily. “I wondered if you were ever going to tell me about it, though.”

“I didn't want to bother you about it.”

“I'm old and falling apart, but I'm still your father. Trent knows that. He called last night. I talked to him.” He shook his head. “That boy's going to be the death of me. If that little girl of ours doesn't wear me out first.”

“I spoke with his doctor. He's going to be okay. Just out of commission.”

“Hope he'll use the time to come home for a while. I asked him to.”

“He said he'll probably get this way in a month or so.”

“A month, huh? That boy. Always doing what he's wanted to.”

Privately, Cal agreed. Sometimes, Cal felt Trent's independence was a slap in the face. All his life Cal had done what was expected of him, and had gotten very little in the way of recognition for it. Trent, on the other hand, had made a small fortune in the saddle…and most times acted as if that was enough for any man.

Cal frowned as his dad shifted again. “So, you're feeling better?”

“Hell, no. My whole body hurts like the devil. Plus, every time I turn around, a nurse comes in and wants to poke and prod me.”

“Junior?” Ginny said from the door.

“I'm still here, Gin.”

“You coming?”

“In a minute. Now sit for a sec.”

“Take care of your sister,” his dad muttered. “She's waiting on you.”

“I'll be right there. But she can cool her heels for a while, too.”

“It's doubtful.”

“One day she'll learn some patience. Maybe.”

Slowly, a new awareness filled his dad's gaze. Pride. And maybe, understanding? “You're a good son, Junior,” he said after a bit. “If I haven't told you lately, I want you to know I'm proud of you,” he said gruffly. “You do a good job with Ginny.”