The Cowboy's Homecoming

Chapter Two

The horse flew up the driveway, hooves pounding the ground and neck stretched forward. Beth leaned, reins in her hands, her legs tight around the horse’s middle. They flew past the house, past the garden and the barn. She pulled the horse up at the fence and then just sat there on the gelding, both of them breathing hard.

“Take it easy on that colt.” The gruff voice didn’t lecture, just made a statement.

Beth turned to smile at Lance, her dad’s ranch foreman.

“He’s barely winded.”

“He’s needed a good ride, that’s for sure. Where you been?”

“Riding.” She slid to the ground, the reins still in her hands. Lance took the horse and led the animal to the barn. She followed. The ranch foreman was getting older but he was still burly and fit. He hitched up his jeans with a piece of twine and his shirt was loose over a T-shirt. He glanced back, his weathered face so familiar she wanted to hug him just for being in her life.

“Your daddy has been looking for you. He said he called your phone three times.”

“I didn’t have a signal.”

“The only place in Dawson with a weak cell signal is Back Street.” Lance turned, his gray eyes narrowed. “You weren’t up at the church, were you?”

“I’m twenty-eight, not twelve.”

“I think I know that. I’m just saying, you don’t need to mess around up there. And you aren’t going to be able to stop Jeremy Hightree from doing what he plans on doing.”

“Someone has to stop him.”

“Well, the city of Dawson is trying to take care of that. Let them.”

“I’m afraid I’m just going to have to help them.”

She took the horse’s reins from the ranch foreman and led the gelding down the center aisle of the barn. She grabbed a brush off a hook and crosstied the horse. Lance flipped the stirrup over the back of the saddle and loosened the girth strap.

“You can’t stop him, Beth. He’s got thirty years of mad built up in him.”

“He needs to get over it.”

“Right, and men always listen when a woman tells them to just ‘get over it.’” He said it in a girly voice and shook his head. It was funny, that voice and big old Lance with his craggy, weathered face. Lance had always been there for them. He’d always managed to make her smile. When she was a teenager and thought the world hated her, and she hated it back, Lance had been the one who teased her out of the bad moods.

The horse stomped and Beth ran a hand down the deep red neck. The animal turned and nibbled at her arm before lowering his head to enjoy the loss of the saddle and the feel of the brush across his back.

“I think I’ll ride him next weekend in Tulsa.”

“He isn’t ready for barrels.”

She brushed across the horse’s back and then down his back legs. “He’ll be ready.”

“You’re as stubborn as your dad. Maybe Jeremy has met his match.”

“What about Jeremy?” This voice boomed. The horse jumped a little to the side.

Beth bit down on her bottom lip and then flashed a smile, as if she hadn’t been talking about anything important. “Nothing, Dad.”

“Right, nothing. I saw you racing up the drive on that horse. Where have you been?”

Her dad walked a little closer. She stood straight, the brush in her hand, and faced him. She’d been backing down all of her life and she couldn’t be that person anymore.

“I went to talk to Jeremy Hightree about the church. I have to stop him from tearing it down.”

The harsh lines around her dad’s mouth softened and he looked away, but not before she saw the sorrow. It still felt like yesterday. Shouldn’t it be different? Shouldn’t eighteen years soften the pain? She’d been without her mother longer than she’d been with her. There were times that her mother’s smile was a vague memory. And more times that she couldn’t remember at all.

But her dad missed Elena Bradshaw more than all of them. And missing her meant he disliked Back Street Church as much as Jeremy.

“Dad, she loved that church.” Beth had never been brave enough to say it, to put it out in the open. This was the new Beth Bradshaw, the woman who took control. The woman who wasn’t afraid. Much.

Her dad raised a hand and turned away, his profile a dark shadow against the bright, outside light. She’d always thought of him as the strongest man in the world. What little girl didn’t think that way? As a child she’d tried to match her steps to his. She’d always tried to please him. She had never wanted to hurt him.

“Please, Dad, we have to stop him.”

He shook his head and walked out the door, away from her, away from memories. She took a step to follow him, to get him to help. Lance’s hand on her arms stopped her.

“Let it go.” He released her arm. “Let him have his memories. That church has been empty for years. It isn’t all you have of your mom.”

“I know it isn’t. It’s about more than her memory. It’s about Jeremy’s anger at a building. It’s about…” She sighed. It was about her mom.

“Yeah, it’s about that building. Everyone in town is talking about it. They all have a reason they think it shouldn’t be torn down, Beth. The truth is, they could have done something to save it.”

Beth watched her dad walk across the driveway to the house and then she turned to face a man who had been a second father to her. Lance was her mother’s second cousin somehow twice removed. He’d taught her to come home strong after the third barrel, to not be afraid as she rushed toward the gate. He’d taught her to rope a calf. He’d taught her to let go of pain. He’d tried to keep her in church, having faith.

“I don’t have anything to remember her by, Lance. Everything is boxed up and hidden. Her pictures, her jewelry, and even the quilts she made. He boxed it all up. I don’t know if he burned it, gave it away or threw it in the Dumpster.”

“He shouldn’t have done that. Sometimes a person hurts so bad they don’t know what else to do. They box up the pain and I guess your daddy boxed up his memories right along with it.”

“She loved that church.”

“She sure did. And she loved her family. She’d want those memories unboxed.” Lance untied the horse and led him down the aisle of the barn. A horse whinnied from somewhere in the distance. The gelding, Bob, whinnied a reply.

It had been years since Beth thought about the day her dad had started packing everything into boxes. He’d been crazy with grief, pulling pictures off the walls, yanking quilts off beds. Everything that reminded him of Elena Bradshaw had been packed up and hauled off while Beth cried and Jason stoically helped their father.

Lance placed a strong hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll feed this horse for you. I think it’s about time you talked to Buck about the box she left you. It’s yours, Beth. She’d want you to have it.” He put the horse in a stall and latched the gate. “And you know this horse isn’t ready for Tulsa.”

She nodded, still fighting tears, still fighting mad that everyone else always seemed to have answers, to be in control, and she always seemed to be fighting to be strong.

It was a fight she planned to win.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Go talk to your dad.”

She walked out of the barn and across the dusty driveway toward the house. A lone figure in the garden bent over tomato plants that were just starting to flower. She stopped at the edge of the garden.

“I’m not going to help you save that church.” He bent to pick a few weeds.

“I’m not here to talk about the church. I’d like the box my mother left for me.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, no longer brave. The deep breath she took did nothing to calm nerves that were strung tight. “If you don’t mind.”

Her dad turned. He stood straight, his hat tipped back. He was tall and broad, his skin weathered by sun and time but he was still strong.

“What brought that up?” her father asked.

Beth had imagined anger, not a question like that. She didn’t really have an answer. “I think it’s time. I want to have something to remember Mom by.”

“It’s just a box of stuff.” He shrugged. “I’ll bring it down from the attic.”

She wanted to rush forward and hug him, but he turned back to the tomato plants. She’d won the battle but it didn’t feel like a victory. She whispered “thank you” and her dad nodded. After a few seconds she walked away.

As she entered the house, she remembered the day her mother had sat them down in the living room and explained that she had taken her last treatment. The memory was followed by one of the day they took Elena off life support.

Beth stood in the living room for several minutes and then she walked back out the front door. She pulled keys out of her pocket and headed across the yard to the garage and her truck. It was starting to make sense, why Jeremy would want to do this. Even if she didn’t want him to, maybe she understood. Her dad had shoved his pain into boxes and stored them in the attic. She’d run away. Jeremy needed to see that church gone.

As much as she understood, she still planned on finding a way to stop him.

The police station was a long, rectangular building with metal siding that looked more like a forgotten convenience store. In an area like this, they didn’t need much for a police station. The occasional robbery, traffic violation or intoxicated driver, those were the extent of the crimes. His mom had probably committed each one, more than once.

Jeremy pulled his truck into a parking space next to a patrol car and he sat there for a long minute because he dreaded going inside. Why had he come back to Dawson? Oh, right, for revenge.

He’d been running from this life for years. He’d done a good job of putting it behind him. He had a successful business building customized motorcycles. He had two world championships. He’d done commercials for cologne and they’d made posters of his ugly mug to sell at rodeo events.

No matter how far he’d gone or what he thought he’d done right, one person knew how to pull him right back into the gutter. A shadow moved in front of the door. On the other side of the glass deputy Carl Duncan waved and motioned him inside.

He’d been fifteen when he bailed Jane out the first time. He’d used his money from lawn jobs and he’d borrowed a car from a neighbor. Back then Carl had been his age, just a kid trying to make a better life for himself. The cop at the time had been Officer Mac. He’d retired years ago.

That was a memory that made him smile. Officer Mac had been a farmer who carried a badge for extra money. When he’d seen Jeremy in that car, he shook his head and told Jeremy he was going to pretend he didn’t see an underage driver behind the wheel.

Jeremy pulled the truck keys from the ignition and shoved them into his pocket as he got out of the vehicle. At least he had his own car these days.

He walked across the parking lot, stopping to glance up at the sky, another way to kill time. There were a few dark clouds, nothing major.

Carl pushed the door open. A woman screamed from somewhere at the back of the building. That would be Jeremy’s mother. He knew that awful sound and knew that her eyes would be red, her hair a wild mess. They’d been through this more than once.

“What did she do this time?” He grabbed a seat from behind one of the desks and sat down.

“She was in the convenience store trying to convince them you’ve stolen all of her hard-earned money.”

“That would get me a cup of coffee.”

They didn’t laugh. Carl sat down on the edge of the desk and shrugged. “She’s coherent. Sort of.”

“Right. So what do I do with her, Carl?”

“Take her home.” The cop shrugged. He didn’t have answers, either. “Maybe put her in a home. I don’t know, Jeremy. I’m real sorry, though.”

“Me, too.” Jeremy loosened his white cowboy hat and then pushed it back down on his head. “Yeah, maybe a home. She might actually get sober.”

“Right, that would be good. She looks a little yellow.”

Her liver. He didn’t know how it had held up this long.

“Do I owe you anything?” He pulled the wallet out of his back pocket and Carl shook his head.

“No, there weren’t any charges. I just brought her in to keep her from doing something crazy. Are you really going through with the church situation?”

It always came back to that. The people in this town ought to be thanking him for getting rid of that eyesore, not questioning his motives. Considering that the church had been one step away from being condemned, he didn’t know why everyone had a problem with his plans.

His mother screamed again. “Get me out of here! I didn’t break any laws. I’ll get a lawyer.”

Jeremy laughed, shook his head and stood. “I’d better get her home before she hires a lawyer.”

Carl nodded and headed down the narrow hall. He stopped at the farthest door and pulled keys from his pocket. “Mrs. Hightree, I’m letting you out now. Can you settle down for me or do I need to keep you overnight?”

“You can’t keep me overnight. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Public intoxication.” Carl slid the key in the lock. “Or public nuisance.”

He unlocked the door and she stepped out of the room, a pitiful figure in a housedress, gray hair sticking out in all directions and a gaunt face. Her attention quickly turned to Jeremy. She frowned and stomped her foot.

“I’m not going with him.”

“Mrs. Hightree, you don’t have a choice.”

She flared her thin nostrils at them and shook her head. “I have choices. I can walk out of here. I can head on home without his help.”

Heat crawled up Jeremy’s cheeks. After a lifetime of this, a guy should be used to it. It wasn’t as if her behavior took people by surprise. What did surprise him was how old she looked, and how bad. He’d seen her less than a week ago and she hadn’t looked this old.

She had been a pretty woman twenty years ago. Thirty-one years ago she had obviously turned some heads. He pushed that thought aside because now wasn’t the time to get caught in the muck.

“Mom, we’re going home.”

“Janie, my name is Janie.”

He grabbed her arm, loose flesh and bones. “Right, Jane.”

He hadn’t called her mom since he was ten and he’d found her passed out in the yard when he came home from school. That had been enough to take the word “Mom” right out of his vocabulary.

“You don’t have to hold me. I’m not going to run.”

“No, but you might fall down.”

She wobbled a little, as if to prove his point. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Jeremy shot a look back at Carl. The cop stood behind them, sorry written all over his face. “Thanks, Carl. You’re sure there weren’t any expenses this time?”

“Not this time. Do you want me to call the hospital in Grove? Maybe she should be seen?”

“I’m fine, I said.” She jerked her arm free from his hand. “I don’t need either of you holding me or telling me what to do. I just need to go home.”

“I’ll take her home.” Jeremy opened the door and motioned his mother through. “See you later.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you around. Maybe we can meet for lunch at the Mad Cow tomorrow?”

“Right, and you can try to talk me out of what you all think is a big mistake.” Jeremy smiled, and Carl turned a few shades of red, right to the roots of his straw-colored hair. “I’ll meet you for lunch, but if everyone was so worried about this church, why didn’t you all do something sooner?”

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there, Jeremy. Maybe we just thought it would always be there.”

“It would have fallen in, Carl.”

Carl stood in the doorway while Jeremy held on to his mother to keep her from falling off the sidewalk. “My grandpa goes up there once a month to check on the place. I think a lot of the older people in town would love to have it opened up again, but nobody had the money and the younger families have moved away.”

“Call me and we’ll talk over burgers at Vera’s.”

Carl nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

Jeremy escorted his mom out the door and down the sidewalk. She weaved and leaned against him. Tires on pavement drew his attention to the road. Tim Cooper. Yeah, they’d have to face each other sooner or later. They hadn’t talked since the day Jeremy learned the truth. The day Tim Cooper wrote him a check, because it was the right thing to do.

Jeremy opened the door on the passenger side of the truck. Jane wobbled and her legs buckled. When he tried to lift her up she swatted at his hands.

It took a few minutes but he got her in the seat and buckled up. They headed down the road, toward Back Street but then turned east. The paved country road led to a tiny trailer surrounded by farmland. It had two bedrooms and a front porch that was falling in. More than once he’d tried to get her to move. But this was her house and she didn’t want his money.

It was the only thing she’d ever owned. This trailer was her legacy. He shook his head as he drove down the road. He thought about how he’d envied the Coopers and their big old ranch house.

His mom choked a little and leaned. Great. Her body went limp and she fell sideways. He eased into the driveway of the trailer and pulled the emergency brake. He put the windows down and waited while she got sick on the floor of the truck.

Maybe they would head for the hospital. He pulled her back in the seat and wiped her mouth with the handkerchief he pulled out of his pocket. “Mom, are you with me?”

She shook her head and mumbled that he was as worthless as his father. Yeah, she was with him. He shifted into reverse and glanced in his rearview window. A blue truck pulled in behind him. Great, what he didn’t need was a big dose of sympathy in brown eyes that dragged his heart places he didn’t want to go.

But that’s what he was about to get.

“Leave me here,” his mom mumbled without moving from her prone position on the seat next to him.

“I can’t leave you here. You need help.”

“Since when do you care?”

“I don’t know, since forever, I guess.” And he’d proven it time and again. His mom passed out as Beth rapped on his driver’s side window.

Beth shouldn’t have stopped but she’d seen Jeremy’s truck at the police station. She’d watched in her rearview mirror as he helped his mother down the sidewalk. For a few minutes she’d listened to the smart Beth who insisted she should drive on home and forget it. But the other Beth had insisted she put her heart on the line. And that’s why she was looking through the window of his truck into eyes that were slightly lost and a lot angry.

His window slid down. “Imagine seeing you here.”

“I thought you might need help.”

“No, we’re fine. I’m taking her to the hospital.”

In the seat next to him his mother made a grunting sound that resembled a negative response. Obviously she didn’t want Beth around and she wasn’t interested in going to the hospital.

“Do you want me to ride over there with you?” She regretted the words the minute they were out. No one in their right mind would volunteer. But she had gone and done it.

His mother leaned to the floor again. Jeremy groaned and reached in the backseat of the truck for a towel that he tossed on the floor. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bag or a bucket in your truck, would you?”

“Give me a sec and I’ll check.” Beth hurried back to her truck. She pushed through the contents in the toolbox in the bed of her truck and found a small bucket, a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of window cleaner.

She returned to the passenger side of Jeremy’s truck and opened the door slowly, carefully. Jane Hightree was passed out, leaning toward her son. Beth handed him the bucket and then she sprayed the floor down and covered it with paper towels.

“Beth, you don’t have to do this.” His voice was quiet and a little tight with emotion. She glanced up as she pulled on leather gloves.

“I don’t mind. I’m good at cleaning up messes.”

“Yeah, well, I usually clean up my own messes.”

She ignored him and cleaned, tossing it all in a bag she’d pulled out from under her truck seat.

“I appreciate the help.” Jeremy reached for the passenger seat belt, pulling it around his mother, even though she remained prone on the seat. “I’m going to take her to Grove.”

“Do you want me to go?”

He shook his head and then looked up, smiling at Beth. “I can handle this, but thank you.” He released the emergency brake and his hand went to the gearshift.

She nodded. “Let me know what happens with your mom.”

“I’ll do that.”

Beth closed the door and walked back to her own truck. As she climbed behind the wheel he backed out of the drive and headed down the highway. Beth went the opposite direction, toward her brother’s house because being strong on her own wasn’t easy. When she’d confronted Jeremy at Back Street Church she had meant to talk him out of something, not put herself in his life. She had to keep her focus on what was important. The goal wasn’t to get tangled up in his life, it was to save the church.

Chapter Three

Beth finished her phone call and sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. After helping Jeremy with his mother the previous evening, she’d had a long talk with her brother Jason about ways to save Back Street Church. Thanks to his wife Alyson they had a very clear idea of how to accomplish their goal. They’d learned that the building had turned 100 the previous year.

They were still digging but it was possible the building could be saved by having it listed on an historical registry. The phone call Beth had made would set the plan in motion.

And she didn’t know how she felt about what she’d done. As much as she didn’t want the church torn down, she also didn’t want to hurt Jeremy.

It seemed that no matter what, someone would get hurt. Either Jeremy or the people in town who cared about the future of the church. He had plans for a business. Beth saw the church as a connection to her mother. Others in town had similar stories and reasons for wanting the building to remain standing.

She took a sip of her coffee and reached for the box sitting on the table in front of her.

Her dad had finally given it to her the previous evening after she’d gotten home from visiting Jason and Alyson. Now that she had it, though, she didn’t know what to do with it. She’d left it sitting on her dresser last night, untouched. Thirty minutes ago she had carried it into the kitchen. She’d been staring at it while she ate her cereal and then made the phone call to the historical society.

She let out a shallow, shaky breath and reached for the box. It was just a plain metal box. Her mother had intended for her to have this eighteen years ago. Eighteen long years, with so many mistakes, so much heart-ache in between.

Would her life have been different if her mother had lived? Would Beth have made different choices, taken a different path? Those were questions that would never have answers.

She lifted the lid of the box and a sob released from deep down in her chest. Tears followed as she lifted her mom’s Bible from the box. Her mother’s most prized possession. Of course her dad wouldn’t have wanted Beth to have that Bible. He would have seen it as the root of all their problems; the same way he blamed Back Street Church for her mother’s death.

He had needed to blame something, or someone. He had picked the church Elena turned to when the doctors told her there was nothing they could do.

Beth opened the Bible and stared through tear-filled eyes at her mother’s handwritten notes in the margins. Reading those notes, it was as if her mom was there, teaching her about life. There were notes about faith, sermons, and verses that were her favorites.