Once a Champion

“I DIDN’T EXPECT you to get home so late.” Tim slowly got up from his chair as Liv walked through the front door. He was trying hard to look normal, but wasn’t quite succeeding. Pain pinched his features.

Liv hadn’t had a chance to talk to him before she’d left for practice, since he’d still been on the baler proving himself to be hale and hearty, so she’d made dinner and left it in the warming oven, loaded Beckett and left. It had taken everything she had not to march across the hayfield and rap on the tractor door to tell her father that he’d made his point—he was getting better—and he didn’t need to kill himself to prove it.

But she hadn’t. Maybe once he got the hay knocked down, he’d set a more reasonable pace. One thing she knew for certain was that if she made a big deal, or continued to make a big deal, then her father’s stubbornness would kick into overdrive.

“Did you eat?” Liv asked, walking past him and into the kitchen. The dishes were done and the food was put away. She turned back to find her father standing in the doorway, looking pale. “Don’t do the kitchen stuff,” she said sternly. “That’s my job.”

“I’m used to doing the kitchen stuff.”

“Well, then there’s no reason we can’t switch off for the day. I’ll handle the hay and you can take care of the cooking.”

Haying wasn’t rocket science, but Tim had always insisted on doing it himself. When she was younger, Liv had thought Tim did everything around the ranch because he had an old-fashioned notion of men’s and women’s work, but now she suspected it was because he didn’t like to delegate. He was a man who depended on himself and only himself—end of story. He’d let her work by his side, which he had done while she’d stayed with him, finding it a way they could spend time together but not have to talk. But he flat out refused to let her take over operations.

“I’ll do the field work.”

Liv leaned back against the counter, folding her arms over her chest as she studied the closed-off man standing near the table.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked flatly. Liv was not a fan of direct confrontation, thanks to all those years of training from her mother, but she’d just spent an entire evening out of her comfort zone, so a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

“How am I feeling?” Tim asked stonily. Liv couldn’t say his barriers went up, because with her father they were never truly down, but he wasn’t in any hurry to answer. It was as if he hoped that if he stared her down long enough, she’d say, “Oh, never mind.” She didn’t, even though it was tempting, and he finally said, “Tired, after a day on the tractor. I think that’s understandable.”

Liv sighed, but before she could clarify that she meant overall, not just today, Tim said, “What did Matt want yesterday?”

The sudden change of topic had the exact effect that Tim had no doubt been hoping for. “How’d you know he stopped by?” she asked. She certainly hadn’t told him.

“Walter told me when he came to borrow the auger.”

Walter lived directly across the county road from the Bailey Ranch and filled his hours watching the coming and goings of his neighbors—when he wasn’t borrowing stuff from them or doing odd jobs.

Liv gave a small shrug. “He wanted the same thing as last time and I think he got the point this time.”

“Well, if he didn’t—”

Liv pushed off from the counter. “I can handle Matt. It isn’t like he can do much about the Beckett situation.”

“I don’t want him harassing you, like that other guy that you didn’t want to tell me about.”

“Two visits are not exactly harassment.” And she wished Tim didn’t know about “that other guy.” The only reason he did know was because Greg had the chutzpah to call Tim looking for her after she’d stopped answering his calls.

Her father raised one eyebrow and she took his point. After Matt’s first visit, during which she’d taken a firm stand, there was little call for a second. At least not in person. Phoning would have done just as well, but Matt had probably figured he’d be more persuasive in person. And he was, but Liv was not falling for it.

“If he starts harassing me, I’ll let you know.” She didn’t like lying to her father, but she wasn’t going to let him fight her battles, either. “By the way, I’m going to Missoula tomorrow to shop with Mom and Shae.”

“All that way to shop? Why doesn’t your mother meet you in a more central locale, like Butte? Surely you could shop there.”

Tim and Vivian had been divorced for almost twenty years and there was no lingering bitterness between them. In fact, Liv had never noticed any bitterness whatsoever. Even her mother, who clung to people with a death grip, changing as necessary to please them, had come to realize that she couldn’t change enough to stay married to Tim. He was a man who had difficulty allaying fears, reaffirming his commitment, saying the words “I love you,” and Vivian was a woman who needed those reassurances. Often. It hadn’t hurt that she’d married David McArthur within a year of divorcing Tim.

“The wedding, Dad. We’re shopping for bridesmaid dresses and Shae wants to shop in Missoula.”

“Right. The wedding. I forgot about that.” The words were barely out when a yawn seemed to catch him by surprise. Liv pretended not to notice, folding a dish towel before hanging it. He’d had a long day proving he was on the mend. She only hoped it didn’t send him into a relapse.

“Shae has promised to keep it a small affair.” Tim cocked his head as if waiting for the punch line. “Reed, her fiancé, is the sensible type.” Liv read her father’s face and smiled. “Yeah. I know. What’s he doing with Shae? Opposites attract, I guess.”

Silence hung between them for a second and Liv had a strong feeling that they were both thinking the same thing. That opposite thing hadn’t worked out so well with him and her mother.

“Reed is a good guy and smart. He knows what he’s doing.” Liv pushed a few strands of hair away from her face, grimacing at how stiff it was from arena dust.

“Let’s hope” was all Tim said. He seemed to be growing paler before her eyes, reminding her of how far she’d been sidetracked from the issue of his health. Even though she wanted to take him by the front of his shirt and shake him, demand that he tell her what was going on with him, she figured right now a full frontal assault would do more harm than good.

She was going to have to wait. Wait and worry. Then maybe in another couple of days try again if he was still doing his impression of the walking dead.

“I’m going to bed, Dad,” she finally said, well aware of the relief that flickered across his stern features, there then gone. “Why don’t you do the same?”

“I will.”

Of course he would. Just as soon as she did.

CHAPTER FIVE

LIV PULLED OFF her ball cap as she walked into the bathroom and then released her hair from the elastic band. It barely moved. Her former drill team had never stirred up so much dust during a practice, but then her old drill team hadn’t ridden hell-bent for election during practice, either.

She waited a moment at the sink, studying her dusty reflection, wondering how long Tim was going to stay up to make his point. A long time, apparently.

Finally, after she’d shucked off her dirty clothing and was about to crank on the shower, she heard her father walk down the hall toward his room at the far end of the house. His door closed and the house fell silent.

Thank goodness.

Liv turned on the water and a few minutes later stepped under the spray, letting it beat on her, washing dust out of her hair and, hopefully, working tension out of her shoulders. Murky water swirled around her feet before going down the drain, but the stiffness in her shoulders barely abated.

Stress. Oh, yes. Her perpetual friend, back with a bit more force than usual after drill practice and the unsuccessful confrontation with her father. Add to that the shopping trip tomorrow, starting a new job in a few days and Matt trying to finagle her horse away from her and no wonder her muscles were seized up.

She rolled her shoulders under the spray, closing her eyes and making a conscious effort to relax. She could deal with this stuff—even if most of it took her well out of her comfort zone.

Liv sighed as she reached for the shampoo. Maybe in a year or two it would be easy. Or easier. Right now it was a constant effort to hold her own, not take the easy way out and become invisible and/or compliant. She just wasn’t certain how much was enough when it came to standing your ground.

The water was turning cold by the time she turned off the faucet, and her shoulders felt only slightly better. She put on her threadbare flannel pajamas and headed to her bedroom, combing her hair with a large wooden comb as she walked. Liv did not own a blow-dryer—hers had given up the ghost shortly before she moved home and she had yet to replace it—so instead of trying to sleep, she propped herself up against the headboard and started reading her new patients’ case files as her hair dried. Shopping with her mother and Shae meant having hair that didn’t look as if it had been slept on wet. It would be amusing to see their expressions if she showed up with bent hair, but Liv couldn’t do it.

She finally closed the last file close to midnight and snuggled down into the sheets, closed her eyes. And realized she was nowhere near being ready to sleep.

Was her dad asleep? A few nights ago she’d heard him pacing his room, but it was silent tonight.

She flopped over onto her side.

Was she up to watching her mother fall all over herself tomorrow trying to make Shae’s special day even more special? She hated seeing her mom doing everything in her power to keep Shae happy, because she knew why she was doing it—to please David, her husband and Shae’s father.

Liv pulled in a breath, closed her eyes even tighter.

Would Matt make yet another attempt to get her horse? And if he did, how was she going to handle it without upsetting Tim? She’d think of something.