A Cowboy's Heart

And when he signed the word, his hand a fist circling over his chest, she didn’t know how to react. But she recognized what she felt—unnerved and taken by surprise. When was the last time a cowboy had taken her by surprise?

She cleared her throat and nodded. And then she answered, because he was waiting.

“It isn’t your fault. It’s dark, and you didn’t know.”

How did he know sign language, and how did he know that it made hearing him so much easier? Even with hearing aids, being in the dark made understanding a muffled voice difficult—especially with the diesel engine of the truck.

“I know it isn’t my fault, but I should have thought.” He shifted in the seat, turning to face her as he spoke. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite awake.”

“About the house?”

“I don’t need a key to the house.”

“Aunt Janie, you should wake up now.” Willow downshifted as they drove through the small almost-town that they lived near. Grove was another fifteen miles farther down the road, but it was easier to say they were from Grove than to give the name of a town with no population and no dot on the map. Dawson, population 10, on a good day. The town boasted a feed store and, well, nothing else.

“Janie, wake up.” Willow leaned to look at her aunt.

Janie snorted but then started to snore again. The vibration of Clint’s laughter shook the seat. Willow shot him a look, and then she smiled. He had used sign language—that meant she had to give him a break.

She was still trying to wrap her mind around that fact. It had been a long time since someone had done something like that for her. Something unexpected.

“Where did you learn sign language?”

He shrugged. “I picked it up in college. I have a teaching degree, and I thought sign language would be a great second language. Everyone else was studying Spanish, French or German.”

He signed as he spoke, and Willow nodded. She reached to shift again as the speed limit decreased.

“I’m rusty, so you’ll have to excuse me if I say the wrong thing.”

“You’re fine.” And the sooner she dropped him off at the little house surrounded by weeds and rusted-out trucks, the sooner she could get back to her world and to thoughts that were less confusing.

The driveway to his place was barely discernable, just a dirt path mixed in with weeds and one broken reflector to show where it was safe to turn. She slowed, not sure what to do. The trailer hooked to her truck jolted a little as the vehicle decelerated and the bulls shifted, restless for home.

“Don’t pull in. You won’t be able to turn the truck.”

She agreed with him on that. She didn’t have a desire to get stuck or to have a flat tire. Not with a load of homesick bulls in a stock trailer hooked to the back of her truck.

“But what are you going to do about tonight? Do you even have electricity?”

“I dropped off flashlights and a few other necessities this morning. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” In the light of the cab he had stopped signing, but he spoke facing her.

The snoring from the far side of the cab had stopped. Aunt Janie sat up, yawning. “Clint, don’t tell me you plan on staying here tonight?”

“There isn’t that much night left, Janie. I’ll be fine. Take Willow home, and get some rest. She’s got to be tired after the day you two put in.”

“You’ve had a long day, too.” Willow pushed aside something that felt like anger, but maybe came from leftover feelings of inadequacy.

It had more to do with the past than with the present. It had to do with Brad telling their limo driver to take her home while he went into town, to a party that would have been too stressful for her to attend.

Alone. She’d always been at home alone. And she’d been sent away when she failed to meet expectations. The past, she reminded herself. It was all in the past and God had restored her life, showing her that she didn’t belong in a corner alone.

She mattered to God. He had given her an inner peace and the ability to believe in herself.

“You’re right about that.” He stood in the open door, holding Janie’s hand as she got back into the truck. “You two have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. When he would invade her life. Willow couldn’t really thank him for that, not if he was going to be another person who found it easy to believe her hearing loss meant she couldn’t take care of herself.

Clint woke up after a short few hours of sleep, stiff and sore, his arm throbbing against his chest. He rolled over on the sleeping bag and stared out the cobweb-covered window, so dirty that it might as well have had a curtain covering it. His savings account had seemed more than enough until he got a good look at this place.

Six months since his last visit home and two years since he’d been in this house. It looked like the dust had been there since then, or before. Not to mention his dad’s old truck, tires flat and the frame rusting, growing weeds at the side of the house.

His dad had moved to a house in town two years earlier, and then to the nursing home. It hadn’t been easy, putting him there, knowing he needed full-time care.

Clint’s phone rang, and he reached for it, dragging it to his ear as he flipped it open. His sister said a soft hello.

“You sound bad. Do you look bad?” She laughed when he groaned an answer.

“Other than a dislocated shoulder, I had a great night.”

“Sounds like fun. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Wait until you come down for a visit. Janie is still Janie. And her niece is living here.”

“The one that used to visit in the summer?”

“The one and only.”

“Is she still beautiful?” She was determined to see him married off.

“If you like tall, blond and gorgeous, she’s okay.” He rubbed his hand across his face, trying to rub the sleep away. “She isn’t my type.”

“Have you ever found your type?”

“Nope. I’m happily single.”

“I don’t think so, brother dear. I think you need a woman to soften your rough edges. You need someone who will take care of you, the way you’ve taken care of everyone else.”

“I don’t have rough edges. So, what’s up, Sis?”

He knew there was more to this call. He thought he might need to sit up, because the tone of her voice, even with the laughter, hinted at bad news. Holding the phone with his ear, he pushed himself up with his right hand and then slid back against the box of supplies he left here yesterday.

“What’s up, Jen?”

A long pause and he thought he heard her sob. He didn’t hear the boys, his twin nephews, in the background. His stomach tightened.

“Time to put our Family Action Plan into place. I’m going to Iraq.”

Not that. He could have prepared himself for almost anything, but not the thought of his kid sister in Iraq. And the boys, just four years old, without a mom. He couldn’t think about that, either. They had discussed it some. He had just convinced himself it wouldn’t come to this—to her leaving and the boys in his care.