My True Cowboy
Shelley Galloway
He’s Mr. Dependable…Every problem can be solved through hard work and perseverance. At least that’s what Cal Riddell used to believe, back before he met Susan Young. Tough as nails, but soft in all the right places, Susan is everything Cal swore off when he became responsible for his family and their prosperous Texas ranch.The sassy single mom is too pretty, too opinionated…too darn easy to love. In short, she’s too much of a distraction, when they both need to be focused on more important matters. Trouble is, the more they clash by day, the more Cal wonders where that chemistry might take them at night.Yep, Susan Young is a problem all right, but she’s one problem Cal can’t wait to solve, no matter how many tries it takes.
As the closing credits rolled across on the screen, Cal leaned closer to Sue. “Funny how things worked out, huh?”
“It’s hard to believe, that’s what it is.” When Cal had called her on Friday night, he’d suggested a trip to the drive-in. It seemed innocent enough. But now here they were. Alone in the dark. She didn’t expect the effect it would have on her pulse.
“I’ve been thinking about this date all day,” Cal whispered, just inches from her lips. “Is this what you had in mind when you agreed to go to the drive-in?”
“Actually, no …” Sue smiled.
“No?” he drawled. His lips brushed her jaw, his tongue flicked at a spot under her ear. “Then what were you thinking about?”
Susan could only sigh for an answer. Cal chuckled softly.
“So what do you say, Susan? Want to go parking?”
Dear Reader,
Is there someone in your family or circle of friends who’s the go-to person? You know, the person who can be counted on to get things done? For me, it’s always been my older brother Gary. In the Riddell family, it’s Cal.
Cal—or Junior, as he’s known by most—has never dodged a responsibility in his life. He sits at his father’s bedside at the hospital. He makes sure the bills are paid, checks on his brothers and listens to people complain. In short, Junior’s the type of man I’ve always admired. He’s solid and dependable and smart. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s six-foot-three, with black hair and gray eyes … and has that kind of slow Texas drawl that curls a girl’s toes.
I knew he’d have to find a special woman, and I think Susan Young fits the bill. She’s an Ohio transplant raising a son who was recently diagnosed with diabetes. She’s gorgeous and smart and more than a little stressed. And just independent enough to not be in any hurry to be “managed” by Junior.
Their relationship pulled at my heart, made me smile and made me cheer a bit, too. I’ve always been a sucker for a happy ending. I hope you enjoy their romance, as well.
And, I hope you’ll return back to the Riddell Ranch for Trent’s story in My Christmas Cowboy. His romance takes everyone by surprise!
Happy reading!
Shelley Galloway
My True Cowboy
Shelley Galloway
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Carole, a very fine woman
who’s taught me a lot.
Thank you so much for all your help!
Chapter One
Cal Riddell Jr. hated hospitals. He hated how he didn’t have a single ounce of control in the way they were run. Take how Electra Community was set up, for example—the place was designed like a rat’s maze. It took forever to get anywhere, and half the time he got lost.
He hated the constant noise of the building, too. Metal carts squeaked and clanked as they rolled along the sterile linoleum floors. Doctors and nurses rushing down the halls. And the persistent hum and beeping of various monitors and machines. All of it pressed on his nerves something fierce.
The smell was bad. Without a doubt, the whole place reeked like gas station bathrooms and disease, all covered up with a hefty dose of disinfectant. It was a far cry from his preferred place to work—a converted tack room in the main barn back at the Riddell Ranch.
But most of all, Cal hated that his dad was in the hospital and there wasn’t one thing he could do about it.
“I’m fine, Junior,” his father snapped. “Do not go get me another glass of water.” With an impatient glare, he added, “I told you, I’m not thirsty. Something wrong with your hearing?”
“No, sir.” Cal strived for patience, but he was losing ground, fast. From the moment Cal had arrived four hours ago, his father had been especially cranky and bullheaded. Though this behavior wasn’t all that new, Cal wasn’t used to being the main recipient of his father’s temper. He had always prided himself on being the son who was responsible and courteous.
Until very recently, it had gotten him pretty far in life. “The nurses said you needed to drink more liquids.”
“Dammit, Cal. I’m sixty-two years old, not ninety-two. If I want to sip some water, I can get it myself. Without your help. But I don’t want it. So stop sticking that cup in my face.”
Cal put the pitcher of water aside and wished one of his brothers would appear at the door and take his place. The old coot could get him riled up like nobody’s business in two seconds flat. “Fine.”
Faded blue eyes flashed. “Damn right it’s fine. Now, stop fussing. You’re acting like an old woman. Fact is, I don’t even know why you’re here. You should be back at the ranch, making sure everything’s running right.”
“Everything is.” Cal knew for a fact it was. He’d been at his desk at four-thirty that morning, checking on the latest financial holdings and making sure nothing had blown up overnight. After that, he’d joined two of the hands in the barn and helped load up the truck with supplies to take out to the north pasture.
At the moment, his BlackBerry was in his pocket, collecting emails and voice messages. He’d check in and take care of business the second he had a spare moment. Really, nothing was going to happen that he didn’t know about.
But his father was oblivious. Ever since Cal had begun to take on more and more responsibility for the ranch’s vast financial holdings, the old guy had asked less and less about the usual day-to-day business. Now Calvin Sr. was more likely to be riding his horse or hanging out with one of his cohorts.
That’s why, instead of looking reassured, his dad just looked skeptical. “Sure?”
“Positive.” As his father shifted and studied the ceiling, Cal eyed him once again. He was looking thinner. His cheeks looked sunken in, and he was agitated, too. Cal didn’t blame the guy. Sitting in bed, waiting for surgery, was a horrible way to spend a day. “Want to watch some television? Maybe there’s a game on.”
“Doubt it.” But a flicker of interest in his eyes belied his negative words.
“Let’s check, just in case.” Needing something to do, Cal picked up the remote and turned the TV on. Cartoons blared back at them.
His father let loose a steady stream of profanities. “Turn that thing off and get on out of here, would you? Don’t know why you’re even here.”
“You are having surgery tomorrow, Dad. Of course I’m going to be here.”
“Jarred’s not. Neither is Trent.”
“Trent is on tour with the rodeo. And Jarred was here yesterday before he and Serena left for their vacation in Mexico.”
When Jarred had returned home, Cal learned that their father had spewed out a steady stream of abuse to Jarred for eight hours straight. And though his older brother had acted disappointed that he hadn’t been able to either change the date or get a refund for his vacation in the Mexican Riviera, Cal thought it was basically all talk. More than likely, Jarred was doing everything he could to convince Serena to take even more time off at the library just so they could stay out of sight even longer.
Cal didn’t blame Jarred. Not really. Fact was, their dad was difficult. And, well, a man could only take so much.
The door opened, preventing his dad from continuing his tirade.
Thank the Lord.
In clanged one of those metal carts, with a pair of nurses in tow. “Hello, Mr. Riddell,” the first nurse said, a pretty gal named Rachel. “We’re here to draw some blood.”
His dad crossed his arms protectively over his chest. “The hell you are. You already took blood today.”
“Dad, watch your mouth.”
“All I said was hell.” One eye fixated on Rachel. “Are you offended?”
A shy smile lit her features. “You haven’t managed to offend me yet, Mr. Riddell. Even though you sure have tried.”
His dad turned to him. “See?”
But all Cal saw was that it was only a matter of time before his father alienated half the hospital staff. For some reason, he felt responsible for that.
Fact was, some days he was just really tired of being his father’s keeper. “I’m real sorry, Rachel,” he murmured.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Junior,” she said softly. “He’s nothing I can’t handle.” Then, turning to his father, she raised her voice and held out a hand. “Mr. Riddell, I’m afraid I have my orders. We need more blood. Can you hand me your arm, please?”
To Cal’s embarrassment, his father told her exactly where she could put that needle.
But instead of running away, Rachel grinned and winked. “You’re not scaring me away. I’m still here, Mr. Riddell. And I’m still going to take this blood.”
“My heart’s about to collapse, as it is. Don’t see why—”
Cal looked over at the other nurse. So far, she hadn’t said a word, just stood next to the cart as if she was afraid the thing would roll off without her.
Poor thing. “Dad, enough,” he said. “These nurses need to do their jobs.”
“Heck, I haven’t even gotten started.”
Cal was just about to find a gag for his father, when Rachel turned to him again. “It looks like we’re going to be here for a little while. Why don’t you go take a break.”
“I can stay if you need me.” The only time his father had been a good patient was when he was sedated. Cal liked Rachel, and felt too sorry for the mute one to have her put up with his dad without help.
To his surprise, Rachel’s smile brightened. “Things will be better if you’re gone.”
“Are you sure? Because I can—”
“Cal, you heard the woman. Get out of here!”
“Fine.” Cal walked out just as his father started cursing everyone in the room again. He hesitated for a moment, but continued when he heard Rachel chuckle and his dad settle down.
Obviously that nurse was right. Things were going better without him in the room … perhaps because Rachel was as aware as Cal what his dad’s real problem was.
Plain and simple, his father was scared to death. His years on the rodeo circuit, followed by even more years of hard living and next to no regard for food of any nutritional value had made his arteries plug up. He was due for a bypass at 7:00 a.m. and Dr. Williams had been pretty clear that he was worried about his patient’s blood pressure.
He’d also told Cal that his dad was likely going to need weeks of recuperation and therapy afterward. And a lot of help.
It was a hard pill to swallow for a man who’d lived his life on his own terms. So, to Cal, his father’s mood was understandable. But, boy, was he tough to deal with.
Aimlessly, Cal wandered down the hall and caught the elevator down to the cafeteria. Two dollars bought a cup of coffee and a stale chocolate-chip cookie.
He sat near the window and slumped. What was he going to do if his dad wasn’t okay? He’d been the rock in their lives. The standard to which he and his brothers all tried to measure up. What was he going to do if the old guy didn’t get better?
“Excuse me. Do you mind if we sit here with you?”
Cal looked at the redhead standing in front of him, her hands full of a tray packed with enough food to feed a small village. Next to her stood a little boy about seven. “Why?”
Without waiting any longer, she set her tray on the table. “Because we’re starving and there’s no room anywhere else. You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, sitting right down and pulling out a chair for the boy before Cal even had a moment to answer. “I mean, you’ve got this whole table all to yourself.”
The way she was talking, you’d think he was holding up prime retail property. But as Cal looked around, he saw that she had a point. Somehow the place had gotten packed—mostly with uniformed personnel. There wasn’t a spare seat to be found.
That brought him up short. Exactly how long had he been sitting there, looking out the window?
When their eyes met again, she tilted her head to one side. “You really don’t mind, do you?”
He shook his head no but couldn’t help ribbing her a bit. “What would you have done if I said I did?”
“I would’ve moved, of course.”
“Really?”
She smiled, and Cal suddenly became aware of how beautiful her mouth was. “Really. But we wouldn’t have been happy about it, would we, Hank?”
Hank shook his head but didn’t answer. ‘Course, it would have been hard for the kid to do that because there was half a hot dog in the boy’s mouth.
Cal sipped his coffee and grimaced.
“You picked a bad time to get coffee,” she murmured.
“Pardon me?”
She leaned closer, bringing with her the faint scent of gardenias. “It’s three o’clock. New pots are always brewed at five,” she whispered as though she was divulging something top secret. “You got the old stuff.”
Put that way, his drink now tasted worse than ever. “Huh.”
Her pretty green eyes flashed as if he’d said something interesting. “Next time, wait two hours. It’s worth it. I promise.”
He hoped to God there wouldn’t be a next time. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Sure.” She picked up her fork and dug into a plate of baked ziti. “Have you ever had this? It’s great.”
“No.”
“You should. Lucinda—she’s the head chef—she fancies herself to be Italian. She really can make great pasta.”
In spite of himself, he was caught in her conversation. “Fancies herself to be? You mean she’s not?”
She grinned at Hank, who grinned right back as he stuck a straw into his carton of chocolate milk. “Heck, no! She’s Mexican. Grew up in Acapulco.” While he processed that, she turned all dreamy-eyed. “Doesn’t being from Acapulco sound exotic?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Hank blurted. “Lucinda says there’s cliff divers there. Have you ever dived off a cliff?”
“No.”
“Well, do ya want to?”
“No.”
Hank wrinkled his nose and snorted, “Mister, can’t you say anything but no?”
“Can’t you ever shut up?”
Hank stilled and sneaked a worried look at his mom. “Uh-oh.”
She glared at Cal. “We don’t say ‘shut up.’”
“I do. If you don’t want to hear it, don’t sit with me.”
Instead of being cowed, the boy grinned even wider. “You’ve got something on your shirt! It looks like dog poop.” Then the boy hopped up and scurried over toward one of the napkin dispensers.
Stunned to silence, Cal slowly looked down at his front and spied a two-inch-long slab of goo smeared right over his heart. Hastily, he grabbed a napkin and swiped.
But all that seemed to do was set the stain in worse.
Tentatively, he examined what he’d been able to get off with the napkin. Shoot. It probably was poop—but of the horse kind. When he’d helped the hands load up boxes, one of the boxes had come from an old stall. From an old stall that hadn’t been properly mucked. Great. He’d been decorated with it all day long.
But everyone else had been too well-mannered to speak of it.
“Shoot. It probably is crap.” He was just about to explain the stain, when he noticed the woman was staring at him, and not a bit of her expression was pleasant. In fact, that redhead could’ve breathed fire, she looked so pissed off.
“You know, someone really should have washed your mouth out a time or two,” she blurted.
What Red didn’t know was that for pretty much the entirety of his fourth-grade year, he and a bar of Dial had been best friends. Of course, that bar of soap had been his mother’s doing. Everyone knew she’d been doing the best she could with three rambunctious boys.
What was this gal’s excuse for her son’s mouthy ways?
“Maybe someone should have taught that boy of yours some manners.”
“Someone? As in me?” Her eyes narrowed. “You have a lot of nerve.”
He’d had enough. Enough of being jabbed with questions. Enough of sitting in the cafeteria stewing and worrying. “Look. Just because you came over here and sat down doesn’t mean I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t, you know.”
She had the gall to bat her eyelashes. “And here I thought you were just shy. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you again.”
“Good.” And because she was still staring at him with those sparkling eyes—and because he even noticed them—he continued, “Just so you know, I think what you’re doing is shameful.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re obviously trying to pick me up. In a hospital. With your son in tow.”
“Is that right?”
“Hell, yes.”
Actually, he hadn’t really thought that … he’d just been trying to get her to leave him alone. But now that he was warming up to the idea, Cal began to think it had merit. After all, she wouldn’t be the first woman to cozy up to him because he was a Riddell. Lots of women had gotten close with either him or his brothers in order to get the life they’d always dreamed of having. Even Christy, who he’d thought was different.
Red was prevented from replying because Hank returned, a hunk of napkins clutched in his hand. “Hank, sit down and eat, please,” she murmured.
The boy sat. But instead of picking up the rest of that hot dog, he pushed a napkin Cal’s way. “I brought you a napkin for your shirt.”
“Thank you.”
Green eyes the same shade as his mother’s watched him swipe at his shirt again. Then he spoke. “How come you’re at the hospital?”
Though he hadn’t intended to say another word, he said, “My dad’s fixin’ to have heart surgery.”
“I’m here for testing,” Hank said, lifting up his left hand. Two ID bracelets were wrapped around his wrist. And two tiny bruises decorated the back of his hand. Obviously the kid had had an IV lately.
Cal was taken aback. Here he’d been so focused on his own source of pain and aggravation, he’d forgotten to look around a bit. “I’m, uh, sorry.”
Completely oblivious to the tension between the two adults, the boy said, “My mom’s name is Susan. Susan Young.”
Cal nodded in her direction. “Pleased to meet you.” Though he wasn’t pleased at all. Not by a long shot.
“We just moved here from Ohio. We had to move ‘cause we need more money.”
Cal pocketed that little bit of information all while noticing that finally Ms. Susan Young didn’t look quite so smitten with her pain-in-the-ass son. “Is that right?”
“Uh-huh,” Hank muttered. “Who are you?”
“Cal Riddell. Junior.”
Before he stopped himself, he held out his hand and shook hers. Carefully, he curved his palm around hers. She had a slender hand with long fingers and long pale pink nails with little rhinestones at the tips of each.
Hank screwed up his face. “Junior’s your last name?”
“No, Riddell is.” He waited a moment, waited for the significance of his last name to register. But neither boy nor woman so much as blinked.
After Hank swallowed another bite, he said, “So are you Cal or Junior?”
That boy could try the patience of a saint. “Both. I’m named after my dad, so most people just call me Junior.”
“I’m Henry, but everyone calls me Hank instead. I like Hank. I hate Henry. What do you like being called?”
Cal had never taken the time to analyze that. Actually, no one had ever given him a choice. “Cal.”
When Hank looked to be preparing to ask another twenty questions, Susan placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Hush, now. Mr. Riddell is leaving. He doesn’t want to talk to us.”
Perversely, now he wasn’t in such an all-fired hurry to leave.
But it was time to go. He stood up and grabbed his mug and uneaten snack. “Goodbye.”
As Hank waved a free hand, Susan replied, “Goodbye to you, too. And don’t worry—I’ll make sure I never make the mistake of sitting anywhere near you again.”
If he was in a different situation, he might have tried to smooth things over. If he was a different man, he might have apologized for his remark about her coming on to him.
If he wasn’t so worried about his father, he would have apologized for swearing in front of her, too. His mother had been a good woman, and she and that bar of Dial had taught him better than that.
But at the moment, he wasn’t anything but what he was. So, with that in mind, without another word, he turned and walked away.
And hardly thought about looking back at Susan and Hank Young at all.
SUSAN WATCH ED THE COWBOY walk off and wondered how it was possible for a man to look so good and be such a jerk, all at the same time.
“What that man needs is an attitude adjustment,” she muttered.
Hank picked up a carrot stick and bit off the top as he swiveled around to look at the cowboy’s retreating form. “He sure was grumpy.”
“You’re right about that. Oh, well. He’s not our problem. All we can do is hope his dad feels better soon.”
Something changed in her son’s expression, and Susan wished she could bite her tongue. Now that her boy was seven, he’d taken to letting her know often that he wasn’t real happy about his fatherless state.
Telling him that he didn’t need a daddy wasn’t doing much good, either.
Of course, neither would telling him the truth, that his dad was little more than a glorified sperm donor. He’d moved on to another girl before Susan had even known she was pregnant. But when she did know and told him about it, he’d simply moved farther away, most likely to another willing woman’s arms.
Boy, she’d made a big mistake with him.
Clearing her throat, she tapped the container of sugar-free pudding he’d insisted on having. “Why don’t you finish up so someone else can have our seats.”
Obediently, the boy pulled back the foil top and licked it. “I’m not all that hungry now.”
If they were home, she would have fussed. But her nerves were already frayed just by being at the hospital. And by the cantankerous conversation with Cal Riddell. “All right. So are you ready to go pick out a movie to watch this afternoon?”
Hank shrugged. “I guess. But I’m getting tired of being here. I want to go home. Remember you said you were gonna paint my new room blue?”
“I remember. I can still do it next week, you know.”
“But I don’t wanna wait until then.”
His voice had just a touch of a whine to it. Which made her think about that cowboy’s comments. And how Hank did seem to be more than a little bit mouthy. “Mind your manners, Henry.”
He sighed and pushed his food around on his plate. Then he said, “I still don’t want to wait so long. You promised we’d paint this week.”
“I don’t have time. I’m here with you and working.” And that was literally all she’d been doing. Working at the Lodge, or taking care of Hank. “Sometimes we don’t always get what we want, son.”
He rolled his eyes as he hopped off his chair and walked to throw his napkin in the trash. “I’ve heard that before.”
Holding his tray, Susan followed slowly behind. It was hard to see resignation fill his expression time and again, but no matter how hard she was trying, Susan knew she wasn’t going to make everything with him all right.
Somehow he’d still gotten diabetes.
The adjustment to Texas still wasn’t going all that well, even though she’d promised Hank that things would be better for them real soon. The hospital, while state-of-the-art, was no match to Cincinnati Children’s.
And now that she’d moved so far away from her parents and brother and sister, she had no one to help her with Hank.
After tossing the last of his lunch in the trash can, she led Hank back to his room.
“I wish we weren’t here, Mom,” he said quietly before he walked inside.
“I know.” What she didn’t dare add was that a lot of times, she wished they’d never moved to Texas, too.
Chapter Two
Two days later, Susan was back at work and was dividing her time between performance evaluations, hiring teenagers to work as servers in the dining room and listening to way too many complaints about other coworkers.
Now, with just one hour left of her day, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was time to play gin rummy with Rosa Ventura. After a brief knock at her partially open door, she peeked into her room. “Want to play cards today, Mrs. Ventura?”
The older woman, confined to a wheelchair for most of the last three years, looked up from the pile of newspapers by her side. “Who’s playing?”
“Just me.”
She looked Susan over, the way she always did, as if trying to determine if she was a worthy opponent. “All right, I guess. Care to bet?”
“Of course.” Susan shook the Mason jar of pennies she’d just fished out of her locker. “I came prepared.”
“If you can get a table away from that crazy Stan and find us two cups of coffee, I’ll meet you in the main room in five minutes.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said with a smile. She didn’t need to ask who Stan was. The man who’d lost a leg in World War II and his pleasant disposition around 1972 was Rosa’s archenemy at the retirement home. The two disagreed on just about everything, but couldn’t seem to help egging each other on.
Susan had a feeling there was more to their relationship than simple dislike. After all, never were the disagreements about anything too meaningful. Yesterday an argument had erupted about the original seven Crayola colors. Last week it was the order of the first twenty presidents of the United States. That one had gotten so noisy Susan had been called in to mediate … and then had gotten a pounding from both of them when she admitted she’d never memorized all the presidents’ names.
Most staff members were afraid of both Stan and Rosa. Susan agreed each was intimidating in his or her own way. But, well, she’d been through harder things, so she took their behavior in stride.
Susan shook her head as she entered the large community room of the Electra Lodge. She really would have thought at this point in their lives the two of them would have learned that there were far more important things to worry about.
She sure did. Every fifteen minutes, she’d been checking to see if the lab at the hospital had called and left a message. The wait for Hank’s latest test results seemed to be taking forever. His insulin levels were high, so she was going to need to readjust his diet and medication once again.
At home, she was trying to put a positive spin on things. However, the reality was that she was still feeling guilty for Hank even having diabetes in the first place. No matter how many doctors or nurses said it had nothing to do with his lifestyle or diet, Susan was sure her crazy work schedule and single parenting was at fault.
After claiming the back game table, Susan pulled out the deck of cards and set her jar down. She’d just filled two coffee cups when Kay Lawson, her boss, stepped in.
“How are things going today, Susan?”
“Just fine. Mrs. Ventura and I are about to play cards.”
“Uh-oh. I have a feeling you’re about to get soundly beaten. Again. Didn’t I see the two of you playing cards yesterday?”
“Yes. We are having ourselves a rematch.”
Kay grinned as she looked at her notebook. “Already I can’t imagine what we would do without you here. You’ve sure livened things up.”
“I try.” Not wanting her boss to think she hadn’t been doing her real job, too, she said, “I put a report on your desk about the new hires for the dining room.”
“I saw it. Thank you.”
“And I think the nurses on the second floor have figured out their schedules now.”
Kay patted Susan’s shoulder. “I didn’t stop by to check on you. Just to say hello.”
Susan bit her lip. Once again, she was letting her experience with the administrator in Ohio cloud her relationship with Kay.
When her old boss had hired her, she had seemed to have no problem with Susan. However, soon afterward, Susan felt as though she’d somehow landed on the director’s bad side.
She’d begun to get reprimanded for not putting in enough hours, though she already worked more than the forty hours in her contract. Then other minor offenses had been written down.
Finally, Susan had known it was time to move on. She’d been very thankful when the employment recruiter had told her about Kay Lawson and the Electra Lodge. Against her family’s wishes and Hank’s complaints, they’d moved away from the big city and to the small Texas town.
And she’d been right. Things here really were better, work wise. Kay was a dream to work for, polite and dedicated, and appreciative of Susan’s efforts.
It was just that everything else in Electra wasn’t so hot. Hank wasn’t making a lot of friends at school, and was already complaining about after-school day care.
And then there was the hospital. Everything just seemed to move at a slower pace. She was constantly waiting for test results or for nurses to call her back with answers to her questions.
“Well, good luck with the game,” Kay said, bringing Susan back to the present. “Who knows? Maybe someone will want to take Rosa on besides you.”
“I doubt that.” There wasn’t a person in the home who wanted to play cutthroat gin rummy the way she and Rosa Ventura did.
Just as Kay walked away, Susan spied the topic of their conversation at the entrance to the room. “I’ve got us a spot over here,” Susan said brightly. “Let’s get started.”
Rosa wheeled her way to the back table. As soon as they were in whispering distance, she murmured, “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, sure. She was just checking in.”
“You looked so serious. For a moment I was worried that it was about your son.”
“It really was nothing. Hank’s doing okay.”
Rosa rubbed her hands together. “All righty, then. Let’s get started before Stan comes around.”
“Yes, let’s definitely do that.”
As Rosa started dealing, the elderly lady looked Susan up and down. “Are you sure you’re all right? Something about you looks different today.”
“I’m fine.” She picked up her cards. “Let’s just concentrate on our hands, shall we?”
But instead of accepting Susan’s efforts to move them on, the older lady grimaced. “Don’t you start talking to me like I don’t have a brain in my head, Susan Young.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“You better not, you hear me? You’re one of the few people in this place who treats me like I still have my wits about me. A couple of the nurses here talk to me like I’m in kindergarten. Yesterday, at dinner, one of them asked if I needed help cutting my chicken.”
Susan hid a smile at that. She wouldn’t dare ask Rosa if she needed help cutting meat. At least, she wouldn’t if there was a knife nearby!
As she sat across from her at the card table, Susan fiddled with her cards. “Just so you know, I really do like playing cards with you. I don’t look at it as a task. I promise I don’t.”
Reaching out, the elderly woman patted Susan’s arm. “I know, honey. Now, let’s play before I lose my eyesight.”
They ended up playing four games over the next hour. Susan won a hand, Rosa won the next two, and as they played the fourth round, the tension between them intensified as their competitive spirits took control. As always, they concentrated on their latest cards as if their lives depended on it. A little crowd gathered around and cheered them on.
Susan was just about to draw another card when Rosa called out, “Gin!” and slapped her cards on the table victoriously.
Susan leaned back against her chair and sighed. “One day I’m going to beat you, fair and square.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Rosa retorted, but there was a bright light in her eyes that hadn’t been there when Susan arrived. “Same time tomorrow?”
“I don’t know if I can. I have some work I need to do on the computer that might take a while.”
“Friday?”
“I can’t Friday, either. I’m, uh, taking the day off.”
“Susan Young, I know it’s Labor Day weekend, but are you taking vacation already? Or are you finally going to tell me what’s got you so stressed and worried?”
“I’m not taking vacation….” Though she was tempted to leave it at that, the concern in Rosa’s eyes practically asked her to share. “But I am kind of stressed today. You were right about that. And it actually does have to do with my son,” she said as the rest of the residents drifted away.
“Has he gotten worse?”
“I’m not sure. He’s been getting low a lot, which means his blood sugar’s been taking nosedives. I just found out that he’s going to have to go back to the hospital for another round of tests,” she said slowly. “But I’ll play on Monday. Kay should be fine with that.” Though it was a school holiday for Hank, she hadn’t even thought about asking for the day off.
For a moment, Rosa’s eyes softened. “That’s fine, Susan. We’ll see each other on Monday. No problem.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“Mind if I give you a piece of advice?”
She shook her head.
“You put that boy of yours first, every single day. A mother’s duty is more important than any job.”
“I know that. But it doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Bills will get paid—they always do, sooner or later. But you can’t get days missed back. I can promise you that.”
Susan would have hugged the lady if she was the kind of person who hugged. “Thanks, Mrs. Ventura.”
The older woman waved Susan off with a hand. “We don’t need a scene now. Now, you best go mill around and chat with the rest of the folks here. The last thing you need is the dragon lady to fuss at you again.”
Doing her best not to chuckle at the name, Susan stood up. “Thanks, I will.”
“And, Susan?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“That Stan is sitting over there by himself, struggling with his crossword again. Why don’t you go see if he needs some help. He almost always does. He’s not too smart, you know.”
“I’ll go do that right now.”
ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Cal was sipping a Coke from the machine and trying to determine how many cattle they should plan to take to market, when two people he hoped never to see again in his lifetime appeared down the hall. The smaller of the pair scampered over.
“Hi, Mr. Riddell. It’s me, Hank.”
Seeing them only made him recall being a complete and total jackass. Holding out his hand, he shook Hank’s. “Hey, buddy. How are y’all doing?”
“Not so good,” Hank said as his mother approached and stood right behind him. “We’re here. Again.”
Susan patted her son’s shoulder. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“In that case, I’m sorry to see you.” When her eyes narrowed, he silently groaned. Was he ever going to be able to have a conversation with her without sticking his foot in the middle of it? “What I meant to say was, I thought this place would have been just a memory for y’all by now.”
Hank answered for the still-silent Susan. “Well … we were home, but now we’re back. I’m getting tests again, aren’t I, Mom?”
“Tests?” A strange sensation burned the back of his neck, reminding him that he hadn’t spared a thought about why Hank was getting stuck so much.
“Yes. More tests.” Susan nodded, punctuating the gesture with a smile that didn’t come close to meeting her eyes. “Excuse us. We need to be on our way, as well.”
Now he felt even lower than a snake’s belly. Just because he was in a permanent bad mood, it didn’t mean he had to take it out on innocent women and children. “About the other day—I’m sorry if I was a bit abrupt.”
“A bit?”
“A lot. This thing with my dad, it’s brought out the worst in me. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “And, Hank, you’re right. I shouldn’t have said shut up to you.”
Hank grinned, showing a wide gap where an incisor used to be. “S’okay.”
For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to respond. Then, ever so slowly, she nodded. “Apology accepted. Now, we really need to be on our way.”
Just as she passed, Cal smelled gardenias again. Gardenias and something spicy underneath. For too long, his gaze tarried on that auburn hair of hers, wondering how a person could manage so much of it … when he met the boy’s eyes.
“Hank, are you ready?” a nurse asked as he approached.
“Sure.” Hank grimaced. “Sorry, but I’ve gotta go. I’ve got to go pee in a cup.”
“Good luck with that.”
Hank grinned. “Thanks,” he said as the nurse escorted him down the hall. “See ya, Mom.”
“Okay.” She smiled at him and the nurse until they were out of sight. Only then did the full extent of her worries cross her face.
Making Cal feel another tug toward her. As he knew from his experience with his little sister, Ginny, nothing was harder than worrying about the health of a child. “Well, ma’am. You take care now, Susan,” he said, nodding as he stepped away.
“Wait.” She swallowed. “I forgot to ask. How’s your father?”
“Truth is, I don’t know. His double bypass ended up being a triple and, as you can imagine, he’s having quite a time.”
“I’m so sorry about that.”
“Thank you.” Unbidden, a lump formed in his throat. His father’s operation had felt never ending. And he’d looked so pale and lifeless in the recovery room, tears had formed in Cal’s eyes. Now he was waiting for more information, but he was having to wait and wait for answers—something that rarely happened in his life. Usually the Riddell name got things done.
“How old is he?”
“Sixty-two.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. Too young for the condition his heart was in, I’m afraid. And, of course, he’s not afraid to complain loudly and, uh, colorfully. The air’s pretty blue.”
Again she surprised him by laughing. “I work at the Electra Lodge, so I know all about ornery senior citizens. By the time folks get to be a certain age, they seem to have decided that watching their tongue is overrated.”
Her words surprised a chuckle. “They might be right about that. My dad now says whatever’s on his mind. No filters. It’s all I can do to shield my poor sister’s ears.”
“Sister?”
“Ginny. She’s only six.” When she blinked in surprise, Cal decided to do some explaining. “My father, he was remarried for a time.”
“Oh, my.”
“Yeah, we were shocked to silence when she came along, too.” They’d been really shocked when Ginny’s mother, Carolyn, decided to take off without a backward glance.
Again, pain from the past threatened to reach out and strangle him. Seeing his dad so sick reminded him of his mother getting cancer. Thinking about his sister spurred a memory of their father trying to explain to him and his brothers why his new wife had left.
He cleared his throat. “I better get going. If my dad’s awake, he’s likely to be causing some poor nurse to blush. Saying he cusses like a sailor is pretty much an understatement.”
Susan murmured, “Don’t be too tough on him. Bodies don’t recover easily at that age.”
“I guess you see that a lot at work?”
“Uh-huh. It’s not just a retirement home, you know. The full name of the place is Electra Lodge and Rehabilitation Center.”
She sounded like an advertisement. “I’ve driven by it. It, uh, looks like a nice place.” He’d passed by the redbrick building often but had never gone in. “Is it?”
“I think so. Though, I’m kind of new.”
“Ah.” As he eyed her full lips again, Cal knew something bad was happening to him. He was starting to think about her as a woman instead of someone really irritating.
He wasn’t pleased.
Fact was, he couldn’t recall ever meeting another woman who’d gotten him so hot and bothered so fast. Well, not since Christy—and he’d thought no one would piss him off the way she could. Just the memory of her deceitfulness created a hurt in his belly that no amount of Rolaids could ever cure.
And now Susan was making him feel that same odd combination of irritation and desire.
He didn’t appreciate it. He had a million other things on his mind, the most important of which was lying in one of the rooms on the third floor.
So how come he’d been finding ways to sneak glances at the way her hips curved out in a completely feminine, pleasing way? How come he was noticing the way the ivory skin of her neck contrasted so well with the dark auburn hair floating halfway down her back? How come he was kind of hoping she’d smile again his way?
He scrambled for something to say. “So … are you planning to stay here for a while?”
“I hope so. I just got the job.”
“No. I mean here at the hospital.”
“Here? Oh, no. We really need to get a handle on this diabetes stuff so I can get back to work.”
“Diabetes?” Cal struggled to recall what he knew about the disease, to show that he wasn’t completely self-centered. “Isn’t your boy kind of young for that?”
“It’s type 1. You know, juvenile diabetes.” When he couldn’t help but stare at her blankly, she added, “It does hit juveniles, you know. He’s young enough for that.”
Cal tried to recall some article he’d read in the dentist’s waiting room. “Don’t you get diabetes from a poor diet or something? You know, you probably shouldn’t be letting him eat hot dogs.”
In an instant, all traces of friendliness vanished. Pure loathing lashed out at him. “For your information, Mr. Riddell, type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease. You can’t ‘get it’ from hot dogs.”
Crap. “Oh. I’m—”
“What? You’re a genius at diseases because you’re standing in a hospital?” she interrupted. “You know what? I think I liked you better when you stuck to one-word answers.”
Cal almost tried to explain himself again, but he felt like a fool. And he really hated feeling like a fool.
Instead, he opted for just standing there as she sashayed down the hall, pushed the elevator button and waited for the doors to open.
And waited.
As she stood and fumed—and as he watched her fume—Cal knew he should do something. The right thing to do would be to go up to her and apologize. Again. No woman wanted to hear anything bad about her mothering skills.
But memories of getting burned ran deep. Long ago, Christy had made such a laughingstock out of him that he’d quit the rodeo circuit.
For months, all everyone and their brother talked about was how he’d been whipped well and good by a tiny gal from Texarkana.
So self-preservation kicked in. The better thing to do was to keep himself still. Distant. Then he wouldn’t get hurt.
He didn’t move a muscle until those elevator doors closed behind her.
Chapter Three
Hours later, back at the ranch, all hell was breaking loose.
“Cal, where’ve you been?” Ginny cried the moment he walked in through the front door, her face streaked with tears and chocolate.
He grunted as she strung two arms around him, getting his starched shirt smeared with streaks of brown goo. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, giving in to the inevitable. “I’ve been at the hospital helping Dad,” he said soothingly. “You know that.”
“I tr-tried to call you. You didn’t pick up.”
He patted her some more. “That’s ‘cause you’ve got to turn off your cell phones in the hospital. What’s wrong? Did you get in a fight again?” His scrappy sister couldn’t seem to regulate her temper. Time and again, in true Riddell fashion, she let her emotions get the best of her, much to her teacher’s dismay.
“No.” She dug in her head, plastering her cheek against his belly. As always, a deep, all-encompassing love filled him for the girl. His little slip of a sister.
“So what’s got you so riled up?” he murmured, patting her long brown hair. Hair the same shade as his own.
Raising his head, he was relieved to see Gwen standing in the hall leading to the kitchen. Gwen was a grandmother whose grandchildren lived in Houston. She’d missed living with a family, and they’d all needed a woman’s hand in helping raise Virginia after Carolyn had taken off. In return for room and board, Gwen helped out as much as she could.
Her lips pursed when their eyes met.
“What’s going on?” he mouthed.
“A lot.” She sighed. “We got a call about an hour ago. Trent’s in the hospital in Albuquerque.”
He stiffened. “What? When?”
Ginny untangled herself from his arms and pulled him down to eye level. “A bull threw him and he hurt his ribs. Bad. And his arm and a kidney, too.” Eyes wide, she said, “Right, Gwen?”
“Kind of.” Her lips curved slightly. “His arm is broken. And the rest of him isn’t so good.”
Cal felt his insides do a flip turn. Of the three brothers, Trent was by far the most talented bull rider. His younger brother was fearless in the ring, and had enough confidence for the whole family.
He’d won so many buckles and trophies that the rest of them just kind of counted on him always coming out of the pen the winner. So much so that Cal had begun to take his brother’s performances almost for granted. Sometimes, he even forgot to look at the recaps on the computer or check in with Trent on a regular basis.
But now Cal realized he’d been foolish to imagine that his brother was invincible. “How bad is not good?” he asked around a sinking feeling of dread. “Do I need to go fly out there?”
“I don’t think so. From what I can gather, in addition to the broken arm, two ribs are cracked.” Lowering her voice, she added, “He might have a concussion, too. They’re doing tests today to check for any internal injuries.”
“But that’s all?” he asked sarcastically.
“It could be worse,” Gwen murmured, her brown eyes sympathetic. “No one thinks there’s anything life threatening. He’s going to be checked out momentarily. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Wait and see. First for his dad, now for his brother. Cal didn’t reckon he had too much patience left inside him. “I, for one, am getting pretty tired of doing that wait-and-see two-step. It’s wearin’ me out.”
“I feel the same way,” she said with a commiserating look. “Just so you know, I called Jarred in Mexico.”
“I’m glad you did. What did he say?”
“Nothing, because he didn’t pick up. I must have called four times, too. He didn’t pick up that phone once.”
“You’d think the boy could manage to check messages every once in a while. No one can be in bed that much.”
Gwen winced. “Honestly, Junior. Watch your tongue.”
Ginny scrambled out of his arms. “How come Jarred’s in bed? Is he sick, too?”
“Just lovesick.” When his sister’s eyes widened, Cal rushed to give her another answer. “I mean, he’s fine. Now, don’t you be worrying about Jarred. I was only joking, sweetheart.”
Her lips trembled. “Okay.”
When he spied a tear slide down her face, mixing in with her chocolate mess, he reached out for her again. “Ginny, I just told you the God’s honest truth. How come you’re crying again?”
“I want everyone to come on home and be like it used to be.”
“That would be nice.” He’d like that, too. But even in a month of Sundays, it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen. Things had happened. Their dad got old and he and his brothers grew up.
“When’s Daddy coming home?”
“Now, that’s something I’m not sure about.” Leading Ginny into the kitchen, he pulled out her white step stool. “Hop up,” he ordered. Then returning to the conversation about their dad, he said, “Here’s the thing. Dad’s going to need a lot of special help.”
“How much?”
“A lot. He’s not going to be able to do a lot of things by himself, and he’s going to need round-the-clock care, too.” Looking Gwen’s way, he said, “That’s going to mean lots of driving and sitting around. And sitting and watching. Any chance you could help out with that?”
Gwen frowned. “Junior, I like you enough to even sit by your father’s side and get chewed on regularly. But I just don’t think I can.”
“You don’t?” His heart sank.
Tilting her head in Ginny’s direction, she said, “I could help out some, of course, but really I don’t think I’ll have that kind of time. Someone’s got to get this little thing where she needs to go….” Her voice drifted off. Obviously Gwen was uncomfortable telling him no.
But she had a valid point. Ginny needed her regular routine. Disruptions meant outbursts and fights in school and tears at home … and that wasn’t going to be good for anyone.
“You’re right. I know. We’ve got a lot going on….” He turned on the faucet, picked up the hand soap and held it up. “Hands.”
Dutifully, Ginny stuck them out. He squirted. “Rub. Now rinse.”
As she did as he requested, he pulled over a couple of paper towels and dampened them, then did a cursory scrub over her cheeks. That was what life was all about with a six-year-old girl, he supposed.
Drama and dirt.
As soon as she was clean and dry, he sat with her and Gwen at the kitchen table. “I just don’t know how we’re going to give him the care he needs.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking we’d just care for him here … but now with Trent in the hospital, too, I don’t think that’s going to fly.”
“Maybe a rehabilitation place?” She snapped her fingers. “There’s the Electra Lodge.”
Reluctantly he nodded. “The hospital recommended that, as a matter of fact. I guess Dad could stay there for a month and get the round-the-clock attention he deserves.”
Gwen perked up. “What’s it like? Have you heard?”
“It’s probably pretty nice. We could check it out….” But all Cal could think about was the fact that Susan Young worked there. It would sure be his just deserts if his dad ended up being cared for by Susan. Every visit there was sure to be filled with irritation and arguments.
If they were even that lucky.
“Daddy’s gonna want to be home with me,” Ginny interjected.
“I know he’s going to want to be home with you, sugar. But we don’t have too much of a choice. Dad has health issues,” he said vaguely. “And other issues, too.”
“When he gets better, he’ll be able to ride all the time.”
“I hope so.”
Looking at him directly, Gwen asked, “So do we have a plan?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ll try to contact Jarred and Trent, but unless they want to play nursemaid, it’s the best solution. He’s going to need more care than we can give him. Plus, he’s gonna be as cranky as all get-out, too. You know he’s going to take exception to anything I say. He always does. We don’t have time for that.”
“Good luck with that conversation.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
Ginny tugged on his shirt. “Cal? Are you mad now?”
“Not at all, sugar.” Forcing a grin, he bent down to her. “What do you say we go check on the horses? Maybe they’d like a little snack.”
As he’d expected, she hopped from her stool and grinned. “I bet Casper wants an apple.”
“I’m sure that horse does. Pick one out and I’ll cut it up, sugar.”
“DO YOU THINK WE’LL EVER get a better TV?” Hank asked as Susan tried once again to get the salt-and-pepper mess off the nineteen-inch screen in their tiny living room.
“I do,” she replied. She was absolutely positive they would get a better television. One day.
Hank narrowed his eyes. “Soon?”
“No.”
Hank sighed. “Jeremy has a television in his room that’s bigger than this. You wouldn’t believe how good it looks.”
“Oh, I would. This TV isn’t too big at all. But we’ve got other things to pay for, Hank. It can’t be helped.”
“Maybe we could do without some things. Then we’d have more money for the good stuff.”
“What are you thinking we could do without?” She, for one, didn’t have a plan. Already her car was limping along and her clothes were mainly purchased from resale shops.
“I don’t know. Broccoli?”
“Broccoli’s not making as much of a dent in our budget as you might think, buddy.”
He slumped. “I guess you’re right.” He looked down at his shoes. “Guess I can’t buy new sneakers, huh?”
Little by little, her heart broke. She hated not being able to get him the things he wanted. “Maybe we can get new shoes after I get paid.”
He flashed a smile. “’Kay.” Walking away, he opened up the fridge. “So, can I have an apple?”
Once upon a time, the answer to that question would have been automatic. But now she hesitated. There were sugar levels and dietary concerns she couldn’t afford to ignore. “What else have you eaten today?”
After he told her, she mentally reviewed the dietary guidelines that the nurses had given her. “I suppose so. But let me know if you start to feel funny.”
Hank rolled his eyes as he bit into an apple, then scooted toward the tiny TV and watched his regular series of shows on the Cartoon Network.
Usually, this would be the time that Susan would lean back and stretch and relax. But all she could do was watch Hank watch TV and worry.
She’d gotten the lab results. They were going to need to up Hank’s insulin dose. And though the nurse probably didn’t mean to sound like it, Susan had the uncomfortable feeling that the nurse thought she wasn’t monitoring his levels closely enough.
After scheduling yet another appointment with the pediatrician, Susan had hung up … and had wondered how in the world she would manage to get off even more time from work. Kay was going to be put out, that was for sure.
And how was she going to be able to start monitoring things better with Hank? When they weren’t going to all these doctor’s appointments, she’d be spending even less time with him, not more.
“I’m going to sit on the patio,” she told Hank, then walked out to her nine-by-nine concrete slab and took a seat.
The moment she closed her eyes, the furnace that was Texas in September engulfed her. On cue, she started to sweat. Any sane person would go on into the air-conditioning. But maybe that was the problem. She wasn’t sane. Not by a long shot.
Why else would she have left Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati, and all her family … for Electra, Texas?
Maybe she should go back to Cincinnati. Living in the city would be difficult and more expensive, but she could probably find a good job. And then Hank would have everything he needed in case something went wrong….
“You in for the night, Susan?” Betsy, her neighbor, peeked out in between the row of holly bushes that separated their patios.
“I am. What about you?”
The closest friend she had in Electra smiled a gap-toothed grin. “Not on your life! It’s only seven o’clock.”
Once upon a time, Susan had thought that way, too. Now, though, seven meant she could finally sit down and relax. “Hey, want to come over for a minute?”
“Of course. Let me get a pair of Buds and I’ll be right there.”
Minutes later, Betsy arrived, her hands full of Bud Lights and a spunky sashay in her walk. “Hot enough for you?” she asked as she flopped down on Susan’s extra lawn chair. As she did so, the hem of her cotton sundress fluttered around her thighs.
“More than enough. I don’t know when I’m ever going to get used to it being ninety in September.”
“Give it a few dozen years. Then it will seem as normal as dust storms in July.”
“In the meantime, I’ll just pray for good air-conditioning.” As they shared a chuckle, Susan sipped her beer, then looked her girlfriend over. Betsy was an office manager for a cellular-phone company and one of five siblings who all lived around the area. She always had something going on, either with work or with her family. “So, how are you? How was your day?”
“Irritating. Too many people were wanting things I can’t give them.” Running a hand through her short, spiky hair, she sighed. “But that’s okay. It’s Labor Day weekend and I’ve managed to get two out of the next three days off. Hey, want to come to a party with me tonight?”
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve got Hank.”
“We need to find you a sitter, Susan. You can’t spend every Friday night home.”
Until the doctors got Hank’s body under control, Susan didn’t want to risk Hank being in a sitter’s care more than she had to. And right now, he was already going to have to be with a sitter for most of Monday.
And, well, being home on a Friday night wasn’t that much of a tragedy for her. She liked the peace and quiet.
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.
Chapter Four
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.”
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