Buy a Cowboy (15 page)

He picked her up and put her into the bed. “I'm staying here tonight, Bonnie.” As she stiffened, he toed off his boots and slipped in beside her. “I'm just going to hold you. Go to sleep, and I'll keep you safe.”

The stiffness in her body eased after several moments. He
r
muscles relaxed against him. She burrowed her head into the hollow of his neck with a sigh and soon her eyelashes fanned against lightly tanned cheeks.

He kept still, willing her to sleep as he thought over his life. He had stood apart from family circles all his life, always wishful that his had survived, that he had the knowledge or courage to create his own. Now he had one. He had the potential to have it all. Was he trying to sabotage it by having the children call their father? Did he want it to fail?

Perhaps that was why he gave her time to herself. The faith she placed in God baffled him. How could she still believe God was involved in her life when death, divorce, and pain surrounded her?

He didn't understand it. Sure, he believed in God. He even believed that God helped those who helped themselves, yet he didn't see the need to pray over every meal. He didn't think God was all that interested in people's lives. He relaxed enough to roll back and place his hands behind his head.

She shifted in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. His heart made a funny little gasp in his throat and he knew what he felt was love. Love enough to make him fear the success of their union as much as the failure of it.

He curled around her, rubbing his cheek against the tousled hair. Slowly his eyes drifted shut. Tomorrow, he'd sort it out tomorrow. Tonight he'd hold her warm and safe against him.

10

Dawn was barely filtering hazy lavender through the windows when Baya woke.

Bonnie nestled against him and shifted uncomfortably.

Grimacing, he realized that sleeping in jeans and shirt was irritating. He stretched, groaning as old broken bones protested facing the morning light.

Bonnie jerked waking instantly. Distrust and stiffness rolled her away from him.

Silently, he stared at the ceiling. The spurt of anger that shot through him at her sudden rejection was painful.

She had scooted far enough away to take the warmth with her.

The loss of body heat had his body protesting as loudly as his aching bones.

She sat up, slowly pushing her heavy hair from her face. Swallowing noticeably, she looked at him with unease.

Anger drained into humor. Lowering his lashes so she couldn't see the lurking laughter, he groaned again.

She scooted toward the headboard curling her legs under her.

“Every bone in my body hurts,” he growled. “You must weigh a ton.”

She gasped in surprise. “
Me!
”

He grinned at her indignation. “I'm just a skinny ole' cowpoke some dame used for a pillow.”

A grateful smile swept over her features with the realization he was trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Here I was dreaming I was roughing it on the cold, hard ground.”

“Honey, I ain't cold.”

She gasped and then a delicious laugh rolled out of her throat with such ease he forgot to breathe. She was so beautiful.

He shoved himself up on his elbows and grimaced as his ribs protested. With cautious movements, he swung his legs off the bed. Pins and needles began running to his toes as he sat there working on straightening up his creaky spine.

A gentle hand settled on his back. “Are you all right?”

He looked over his shoulder with a smile. “It's normal. I'm pretty beat up. I never was any good as a rodeo bum. I have more broken bones than unbroken ones.”

“Can I help?”

The humor in his eyes deepened. “Well, ma'am. Seein' as how you're my partner and all,” he began with a heavy drawl.

The bedroom door opened and Daniel rushed to jump on the bed.

Baya groaned at the sudden movement and Bonnie caught the child in a fierce hug.

“Mom, can I find some fish bait? Huh?”

Bonnie looked from Daniel to Baya with a puzzled frown.

Baya laughed out loud. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure she thought her son would be shocked to see him in her bed. “Saved by the boy.” Baya murmured, grinning at her.

She scrunched up her face and tightened one corner of her mouth in exasperation at his humor. “Later, Daniel. We have to eat first. Go get dressed and move carefully so you don't make Baya's old bones ache.”

The boy slid off the bed and headed for the door. “Are we going to have pancakes?” He yelled as he ran across the hall to his room.

In a sudden move, Baya leaned over and gave Bonnie a quick, hard kiss.

She reared back, startled, but smiling. “Maybe I'll have to reward him with pancakes, after all.” She slipped out of the bed and grabbed a robe. “I'll start the shower running so you can work the kinks out. I'll just turn on the cold water. Doctors say cold water works well on painful joints and such.” She tossed her head and laughed again.

He silently walked behind her as she pulled the shower curtain around the tub.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You have to give me something to get back out this door.” He chuckled again and crooked a finger. She straightened
and he placed a finger against his lips and tapped twice.

She moved toward him, her lashes lowered demurely.

He bent his head so she could kiss him, but she reached up, tapped his lips twice with her finger and ran out the door with a giggle.

He made a grab for her but she slipped away. As she reached the door he yelled, “And don't you dare feed that gremlin pancakes!”

~*~

A smile kept creeping onto her face as she grilled the pancakes. Bonnie tried to remember the last time she had indulged in such a playful flirtation. Having Baya hold her last night had lessened some of the tension in their relationship. Trust was growing. He had been brutally honest about wanting her; it hadn't been crude or intense, just honest. And he held her all night long, being a perfect gentleman. She paused.
Surely you could place your trust in a man like that?
The kitchen door swung open.

“I said no pancakes,” he growled as he wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug.

Pushing away from him, her hands rested on his biceps. Her laughter quieted. Corded muscles rippled down his arms and she felt his strength and warmth curling deep inside her. Her hands smoothed the taut muscles and traveled over his hard T-shirt clad shoulders. As her arms slipped up his neck, she caught sight of intentness in his dark eyes.

He seemed to be holding his breath.

Pulling his head down, she kissed him full on the mouth. Heat flared. She couldn't breathe; fire coursed through her veins. He picked her up and placed her on the counter and she wrapped herself around him, sinking into the passionate kiss
.

“Mom, are you burning something?” Faith's voice floated down the back stairs.

Startled, they pulled apart.

Baya grabbed the skillet handle and pulled it off the flame. “Ow!” He shook the heat out of his hand

Bonnie covered her mouth trying to stifle the nervous giggle that escaped.

Baya narrowed his eyes. “Pancakes. I'll never be able to appreciate them again. First that open door, and now the stove, are working against me getting any smooching.”

“I take it you skipped the cold part of the shower?”

He gave her a smiling kiss. “What's your excuse?”

“My heroes have always been cowboys.”

He pulled her off the counter. “I'll try to keep the legend alive, ma'am. Just don't burn any more pancakes. I can see I'll need my nourishment.”

The sound of running feet on the stairs turned him toward the breakfast cubby. “I'll get the table set. It sounds like the thundering herd's hungry.”

~*~

A breakfast full of laughter and gentle teasing held her in a warm glow as she did dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Glancing out the kitchen window, she could see Baya pulling the tractor out of the shed.

Faith was hauling food to the old mare and colt.

Bonnie dried her hands on a towel and pulled off her apron. Walking swiftly, she went out toward the barn.

In town the other day, one of the checkout clerks had started a casual conversation, and upon learning they were new in town, had invited the family to church.

She skirted the tractor before stepping inside the dark filtered light of the building. A wheelbarrow was sitting in the aisle. She stopped, startled by the sight of Daniel shoveling horse manure out of a stall into it. A bale of straw plopped out of the loft and she looked up to see Baya pitching another one. She stared up at him with a rumpled brow.

Hope came out of a stall dragging a hose behind her.

Baya pushed his hat off his forehead and wiped the sweat from his face before he saw her standing in the middle of the aisle. The welcoming smile drained from his face.

“I didn't know you had the children doing these chores.” Her voice was low and intense as she reached the hayloft. Her vision of sitting with the kids on a bale of hay watching Baya disappeared.

“You don't approve?” he asked.

“I don't know.” She frowned. “I'm afraid they'll pick up a bug of some kind.”

He shook his head. “All the animals are vetted, Bonnie. You don't disapprove of Faith doing this.”

“They are so young.” She gestured a stiff hand toward the two younger children.

“How young was Faith when she started?”

“They need to learn how to do the job now, before laziness becomes a habit. Yes, I could do it all myself, but this way I know where they are and what they're doing.

“You should be proud of how well they do these chores. You told me yourself that Hope wasn't a baby. I can't afford hands to run this ranch, Bonnie. I have to make do with what I have. If I make sure these children learn to work now, they can be of help later. Later, I plan on making a profit of this valley. Later, I plan on hiring hands. If later never comes, at least we know the family can keep this valley functional. Do you understand this?”

“They are still just children.”

“Take away these jobs and you will take away the pride growing in these children. Listen to them, Bonnie.”

Below, the children were calling back and forth.

Faith had returned from feeding the mare and colt. Swinging the empty buckets as she walked, she asked if Hope needed help. The answer was an aggressive negative.

Daniel answered in much the same way before turning to shout up at Baya. “I have the stalls clean. Are we ready to put down straw?”

Baya searched deep in Bonnie's eyes before answering, “I'll be right down, Daniel.” Then softer, he told her, “That is pride in his voice. This is a nasty chore, but simple, and he can do it well. Let them grow up, Bonnie.” He turned and walked away, disappearing one step at a time down the stairs, heading to cut the straw bales and bed the stalls.

From where Bonnie stood in the loft, she could see all four of them scramble for armloads of bedding. She walked down the stairs and back to the house, disturbed by the image and not sure why she felt bested yet again.

11

The next morning, Baya lay in bed, listening to the sounds of Bonnie moving about upstairs. He hadn't attempted to move upstairs after the interlude in the barn. She would have to come to him.
If she didn't…h
e shrugged. He had placed the cards on the table.

She had allowed that remoteness that he recognized too well to envelope her, moving back into her protective shell. Playing peek-a-boo with the passion that dwelt in her was exhausting. He wasn't sure he was up to the job, but the same reckless determination that kept him riding bulls surged inside him.

Deep down, it angered him that he had talked and reasoned with her so much. Talking wasn't a natural part of his makeup, but he had tried and it still hadn't helped. None of the few women he'd known would have remained as calm when challenged.

Bonnie might grow reflective and quiet, but she worked things out in a just manner. Her worries stemmed around the children. Always the children.

She didn't seem to notice her own needs or plan anything other than caring for the children. She needed to expend some on herself.

He began to wonder when she had last had a day to do something she wanted. Which reminded him: he never had found out what she'd ventured into the barn for yesterday. He gave a groan as he struggled to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He smiled as his feet hit the floor, remembering yesterday when he sat on Bonnie's bed.

When she entered the kitchen he had the coffeepot going and the radio turned down low. He turned to smile as she stopped inside the door.

“I refuse to eat pancakes two days in a row.” He smiled. “How'd you sleep?”

She lifted her chin and stared at him warily. “Fine.”

“I never asked why you came to the barn yesterday.”

Her mouth rounded in surprise. “Oh.” She watched him for a moment before answering. “I had meant to tell you that we were invited to church this morning. It's a little one on Woodrun Road. I thought I'd let you know that we would have to be done with chores by eight.”

Gripping the coffee cup, he turned to stare out the window. Outside the varying greens of the valley looked the same. He remembered her vaguely mentioning something about church at the diner. “I've not been inside a church in years,” he murmured, still not quite sure of his relationship with God and thinking maybe the Almighty wouldn't want a broken bull rider who traded marriage for a ranch in a house of worship.

“I thought we discussed all this.”

“Why can't you and the kids go on and I'll have dinner cooked when you come back?” He turned to see her eyes filled with hurt.

She started to push back through the door when he stepped beside her and lifted her chin. “Did you really want me to go?”