The Cowboy's Sweetheart

“I am a woman.”

“No.” He took off his hat and swiped a hand through his hair. “No, you’re not. You’re my best friend. You’re my roping buddy. You’re not like other women. You’ve never been like other women, getting all caught up in the dating thing and romance.”

“I’m still not caught up in those things.”

“No, now you’re caught up in religion.”

“I’m not caught up in anything. This is about faith. And to be honest, I really needed some.” She looked away.

“Whatever. I’m just saying, this isn’t you.”

“It’s me. But for a lot of years, I’ve been trying to be who you wanted me to be. I’ve done a lot of things to make you feel better about being angry.” Her voice was soft and sweet, reminding him of how easy it had been to kiss her. Maybe things had changed—more than he’d realized. Being on the road he’d been able to fool himself into believing that they could go right back to being who they’d always been.

“Go to supper with me at the Mad Cow. I’ll buy you a piece of pecan pie.” He nudged her shoulder and she nodded. He thought she might say yes.

But then she shook her head. “I’m tired. It was a long trip.”

“Yeah, I guess it was. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“And you’re going to church?”

“Yeah, Ryder, I’m going to church.”

“Fine, I’ve got to get home and get things cleaned up before Wyatt gets here.”

“Wyatt’s coming?”

Ryder pulled his keys out of his pocket. This was something she would have known, before. He would have called her to talk it over with her, to get her opinion. He guessed that was a pretty good clue that he’d been avoiding her, and telling himself a whole pack of lies.

Number one being that nothing had changed.

“Yeah, he’s coming home.”

And Ryder didn’t know how it would work, with him, Wyatt and two little girls all in one big, messy house. The girls needed to be here, though. Ryder knew that. He knew his brother was falling apart without Wendy. Wyatt was caving under the guilt of his wife’s death. A year, and he was still falling apart.

“If you need anything.” Andie’s voice was gentle, so was her hand on his arm.

“Yeah, I know you’re here.” He smiled down at her, winking, because he needed to find firm footing. “Gotta run. Let me know if you change your mind about, well, about anything.”

About being this new person, this woman that he just didn’t get.

“Right, I’ll let you know.”

The back door opened. He waved at Etta and tried to escape, but she left the back stoop and headed in their direction. And then he remembered why he’d driven down here. Because mad or not, Andie was about to need a friend.

“Don’t you want to come in for tea?” Etta had been filling him with tea for years. Tea for colds, tea for his aches and pains, tea to help him sleep when his parents died. He’d turned to something a little stronger for a few years, until he realized that it was doing more than helping him sleep. It had been turning him into his dad.

He glanced at Andie, and she was still clueless. “I can come in for a minute. I have to get my house clean before Wyatt shows up.”

Why’d he have to feel so old all of a sudden? Last week he’d still felt young, like he had it all, except responsibility. He had liked it that way.

“When’s he going to be here?” Etta stepped a little closer.

“Tomorrow or Monday. I guess I’ll have to call Ruby to get my house really clean.”

“You’ll be fine, Ryder.” Etta’s eyes were soft, a little damp.

“Yeah, I’m more worried about Wyatt.” Ryder didn’t want to think about the house and the girls, not all in the same thought.

And then the back door opened again.

Chapter Two

Andie had forgotten about that car in the drive. She shouldn’t have forgotten. It was Ryder’s fault and it would have felt good to tell him that. But she didn’t have time because the woman standing on the back porch was now walking down the steps. She was nearing fifty and stunningly beautiful. And she was smiling. Andie hadn’t expected the smile. She wanted this woman to be cold, to live up to Andie’s expectations of her.

A woman that ditched a child couldn’t be warm. She couldn’t be loving. Andie replayed her list of words she used to describe her mother: cold, unfeeling, hard, selfish.

The list used to be more graphic, but Andie was working hard on forgiving. She’d started with the easy “need to forgive” list. She would forgive Margie Watkins for spreading a rumor about her. She could forgive Blaine for gum in her notebook back in the fifth grade. She’d kept her mother on a list by herself, a final project. Saving the most difficult for last.

So now Andie knew that it was true—God had his own timing, reminding her that He was really the one in charge. She had really thought she’d wait a few months to contact Caroline.

“You okay?” Ryder stepped next to her. “I thought I ought to be here for you.”

Cowgirls do too cry. They cry when the man they are the angriest with shows up and says something like that. They can cry when they see their mother for the first time in twenty-five years. She nodded in answer to his question and blinked away the tears, because she’d never cried this much in her life and she didn’t like it.

She didn’t like that her edge was gone.

Was this really the plan, really what God wanted? For her to forgive the person who had hurt her more than anyone else, even more than Ryder when he ignored her phone calls?

If so, it was going to take some time.

“Caroline wanted to see you.” Etta’s tone was noncommittal and Andie wondered if her mother had been invited or just showed up.

Oh, the wedding. Alyson’s wedding.

“Did she?” Andie managed to stand tall. “Or is she here to see Alyson? To help plan the wedding.”

It made sense that her mother would show up to help plan Alyson’s wedding. She had never shown up for anything that had to do with Andie.

“I’m here to see you.” Caroline was close enough to hear, to respond. And she had the nerve to smile like she meant it.

But really? Did she?

“That’s good.” Andie managed words that she didn’t feel. Standing there in the yard, the sun sinking into the western horizon, red and glowing, the sky lavender. The sky matched Etta’s hair. At least that lightened the mood.

“I know I should have come sooner.” Caroline glanced away, like she, too, had noticed the setting sun. She stared toward the west. “I don’t have excuses. I’m just here to say that I’m sorry.”