Cooking For Cowboy (Stampede Sizzlers) (20 page)

Sierra’s hand started cramping from Bonnie’s death grip, but she didn’t dare pull her hand away. Chad’s wagon moved at a good clip and both outriders were hugging the rail close behind his rig.

Go, go, go she silently cheered them on.

“…
all four rigs are moving into the backstretch, only a couple of wagon lengths separating them. The Gray Accounting wagon is still holding the rail position. Oh, my, goodness! It looked like the oilfield rig tapped the rear wheel of the accounting rig when he attempted to pass. The accounting rig swerved sharply
...”

The announcer’s voice faded into oblivion as Sierra leapt to her feet. Bonnie followed her up, grabbing Sierra’s arm for support. Charlie stood, mouth gaping. Chad’s wagon swerved crazily on the track after the wagon that attempted to pass him clipped the rear wheel. As the wagons swerved, one of Chad’s outriders was knocked from his horse. Sierra watched in horror as the young man hit the ground and rolled toward the grassy edge of the track while the riderless Thoroughbred raced onward down the track, appearing uninjured.

“Oh, Lord. They’ve killed him.” The words exploded from Bonnie’s mouth, and then she slumped back into her chair with Sierra’s help.

“No, he rolled off the track. The wagons and other outriders won’t trample him. Think positive thoughts, Bonnie,” blurted Sierra, not believing a word of it. The young man lay still on the ground, not moving since the moment his body had come to rest in the grass.

“I’ll go see what I can do to help, ma’am,” shouted Charlie as he rushed off with surprising speed and agility for a man his age.

Almost a half minute passed before the track judges, assisted by several outriders, had stopped both of the wagons involved in the incident. The other two rigs moving along the outside completed the race, but the announcer only briefly acknowledged them. None of them would register a time anyway, since their outriders were busy helping with their injured fellow outrider or stopping the slightly damaged wagons. The announcer’s commentary centered on the two wagons involved in the collision.

Sierra watched Chad leap down from his rig, seemingly uninjured, and race around front to tend to his horses. Several outriders were helping Blaine and Chad deal with the excited team. What if it had been Chad lying motionless on the ground? Sierra couldn’t allow her mind to even go there, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.

“...
here comes the ambulance. The drivers are walking around their rigs, appearing unharmed. Chad Parker is attending his horses. His outrider, young Chris McClain, is still lying in the grass, not moving
...”

“Bonnie,” an older lady with a tanned, wrinkled face and dyed blonde hair, rushed forward and slipped into Charlie’s vacant chair. She hooked her age-spotted hand around Bonnie’s arm. “We’ve seen enough of these accidents together over the years. Don’t invite worry into your heart needlessly. Could be that young man just knocked the wind out of himself. He might escape this without a scratch.”

“I know, Agnes. It’s just so hard to watch.” Bonnie patted the other woman’s hand.

Agnes wrapped her arms around Bonnie and hugged her close. “My prayers are with those young men tonight.”

“Thank you, Agnes, I appreciate that.” Bonnie smiled, weakly.

Agnes stood and wandered back to her group. She was soon replaced by several other ladies and a couple of gentlemen who extended similar sentiments. Obviously, the race circuit community was tight-knit.

Bonnie reached for Sierra’s hand, and Sierra clasped the woman’s cold hand in hers. “It will be all right, Bonnie. You’ll see,” she whispered.

“I hope you’re right.” Bonnie choked out the words, sniffling softly.

Staring through the window, Sierra noticed that Charlie had arrived at Chad’s side just as the paramedics were preparing to load Chris into the ambulance. A brief discussion ensued and then Chad raced down the track and climbed into the ambulance with his outrider. Sierra’s heart leapt into her mouth. She wanted desperately to rush to Chad’s side and help him deal with his injured outrider. But she had to remain with his mother.

“Come on, Bonnie. I’ll drive you home. Charlie or Chad will phone or text when there’s news.”

Bonnie nodded silently, her face as white as a cotton ball. Two thoughts monopolized Sierra’s mind as she wheeled Bonnie toward the Whispering Pines minivan in the parking lot.

How badly hurt was Chris?

Was Chad really okay?

Chapter 16

Sierra and Bonnie drove toward home in silence.

As they reached the city outskirts, Sierra glanced over and noticed Bonnie’s eyes were closed tightly and her lips were moving soundlessly. She hoped someone up there was listening.

Sierra parked the minivan in front of the closest garage door and then rolled Bonnie through the side door into the house. “Would you like a cup of tea or something?”

“Maybe later, dear. Please take me to my room. There’s something I’d like to show you,” whispered Bonnie.

Sierra wheeled Bonnie into her bedroom.

“Please take me through to the sitting room, dear,” encouraged Bonnie.

“Are you certain you want me in there?” questioned Sierra, leaning down and meeting Bonnie’s eyes.

“I’d like to show you pictures of Stuart and his horses.” Bonnie smiled through unshed tears.

“Okay,” said Sierra, rolling Bonnie into her private space.

“Oh, my,” exclaimed Sierra, stopping in her tracks. “What is all this?”

“Trophies, photos, awards, a lifetime of accomplishments.” Bonnie shook her head. “I just love having all these things around me. It’s such a comfort, especially when I’m missing him and feeling sorry for myself.” She smiled weakly.

“Which one is your husband?” asked Sierra moving closer to the wall of photographs.

“The largest picture in the black frame, that’s him on the left. The handsome guy holding the reins of the Thoroughbred. The other man is a friend and fellow racer.”

“I recognize him. He’s been interviewed on TV a lot.”

“Kelly’s won the Rangeland Derby during Stampede several times.” Bonnie clarified.

“You have so many pictures of your husband and his horses and different wagons and…” Sierra gasped. “Is that Chad?”

“Yes. He was only ten years old, but he’d already caught the racing bug. He absolutely loved horses, been riding since he was three. It didn’t matter how big those horses were, he was never frightened of them. Even when he should have been a couple of times.” Bonnie chuckled. “And here he is still putting himself in danger every night that he races those horses of his.”

“He loves it so much, doesn’t he?” Sierra smiled in understanding.

“Just like his father. There’s no way I could ever tell him to stop. I just hold my breath and hope for the best every time that klaxon sounds.” Bonnie patted Sierra’s hand.

“All these trophies and awards represent Chad’s legacy from his father. No wonder he feels that he has to measure up.”

“You’ve known my son for such a short time, and yet, you’re so intuitive. That’s exactly how Chad feels. He has the identical drive to succeed that his father did. He’s his father’s son. No doubt about it. I couldn’t be more proud of him.”

“Chad’s the spitting image of his dad,” Sierra patted Bonnie’s shoulder. “Does he have his father’s personality, too? He’s such an easy-going guy.”

“So was Stuart. Nothing flustered him or unduly angered him. He’d just figure out a way to make a situation work, no matter if everyone around him was in a meltdown.”

“On nights like this…you must derive comfort from gazing at these keepsakes and the memories they conjure up.”

“I do. I feel close to Stuart when I’m sitting here, reading or watching TV.” Bonnie smiled, weakly. “Can you help me prepare for bed? I don’t know what time Celia will be back.”

“Sure, Bonnie. Whatever you need.”

A half hour later with Sierra’s help, Bonnie had changed into a nightgown, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and was settled into bed with a cup of herbal tea in her hands. Bonnie turned quiet, tears silently sliding down her cheeks.

“Everything will be okay,” whispered Sierra, setting her own teacup down on a small table beside the chaise. She’d also changed into a nightgown and robe, and she padded across the room in bare feet to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yes, I hope so,” responded Bonnie.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed it all these years. Sitting on those bleachers, watching your husband and now Chad on race nights, knowing they’re risking injury or worse.” Sierra shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it again.”

“Of course, you can and you will. Those men love racing, and their wives love them. And that’s why we sit in the stands, cheer them on, and whisper a little prayer when that klaxon sounds.” Bonnie smiled through her tears.

“Talk about a Half Mile of Hell.”

“Yes, the wives and mothers endure that Half Mile of Hell, same as the men. But when the wagon crosses the finish line, there’s no better feeling in the world, especially when your man wins.” Bonnie touched Sierra’s hand. “Most nights nothing happens, so don’t fret about Chad.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about…” she stopped, her emotions too raw to continue, her words a blatant lie. She would sit with her heart in her mouth every night when Chad raced.

“You will worry,” insisted Bonnie, astutely. “My legs might not work worth a damn, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight. I’ve noticed the way you look at him when he’s not looking. He sneaks glances at you, also. My son is in love, and I think you love him, too.”

Sierra gaped, speechless. Bonnie had guessed her feelings for Chad, and she racked her brain for a response.

And then a light bulb went on. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? She wiped unshed tears from her eyes and grabbed her cell phone out of her robe’s pocket.

“If Chad won’t call us, I’m texting him. Surely, he knows something by now.” She texted
how is he
?

Bonnie reached for her hand and they sat together on the bed, waiting for a response.

“Please answer, please answer, please answer,” Sierra chanted the mantra aloud.

A moment later the words
Chris will be fine
flashed across the phone’s screen.

“Yes!” whooped Sierra.

Bonnie startled, spilling a few drops of her tea.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. But look.” She passed her the phone.

“That’s wonderful!” Bonnie smiled, wiping away the last of her tears. “My goodness, that’s the best news I’ve received in ages.”

“Me, too.”

“Ask Chad if he’s okay?” Bonnie eyes were filled with hope.

Sierra sent the text.
Are you okay
?

About the time she was ready to jump out of her skin with impatience, he replied.
We’re both fine. Chris has a mess of bruises and a couple of stitches. Charlie says the vet did a little doctoring but the horses will be okay
.

Sierra read the text to Bonnie who beamed with happiness.

“I’m so exhausted,” admitted Bonnie, handing her teacup to Sierra. “I can sleep now knowing everyone is fine and Chad’s horses will be okay, too.”

“Good night, Bonnie. Sleep well.” Sierra tucked the covers around Bonnie, kissed her wrinkled and tear-stained cheek, turned off the bedside lamp, and slipped out of the room.

* * *

Sierra carried the teacups to the kitchen. Celia had returned from her night at the movies, and Sierra filled her in on all that had transpired during the race. Celia retired to her room, and Sierra stuffed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and turned out the lights.

Peeking into Bonnie’s room, Sierra found her sound asleep. Fighting to hold back her emotions, she raced down the hallway to the privacy of her own bedroom. She shed her robe, crawled between the sheets, and wept inconsolably.

She couldn’t have pinpointed exactly why she was crying. For Chad, the man she loved more than life itself? For the young outrider who’d been knocked off his galloping horse? For Chad’s horses that made contact with the opposing wagon? For Chad’s opponent, the inattentive driver whose unintentional misjudgment caused the unfortunate incident?

None of the above.

All of the above.

It didn’t matter.

Witnessing the whole ordeal suddenly took its toll on her. Sierra purged her emotions in a torrent of tears, thankful the day’s stress hadn’t caught up with her until she’d reached the privacy of her own room.

And then she felt an overwhelming sense of shame.

If she felt this badly, what level of hell had Chad been going through? She should have accompanied him to the hospital with his outrider, waited to ensure herself that both of them would be okay. But of course, that had been impossible. Charlie had rushed to Chad’s side, tending to the horses’ needs while Chad kept an eye on Chris at the hospital. She was needed to drive Bonnie home, comfort the equally upset woman with reassurances she didn’t believe herself. With everything they’d shared tonight, she’d never felt closer to the woman she believed might be her mother-in-law some day.

When they received the text messages from Chad, the good news had brought on a batch of happy tears his mother shed unashamedly. She recalled the time Chad told her that everyone, including the staff on the Whispering Pines Ranch, was one big family. Now, she knew what he meant. She couldn’t believe how close she’d become to a bunch of cowboys and their boss by just cooking for them every day.

She heard a noise in the hallway and instantly froze. The student chefs had headed to bed ages ago. Bonnie and Celia were asleep by now, too.

She heard it again.

Chad hadn’t mentioned coming home, and she assumed he intended to stay with Chris at the hospital all night.

Someone was walking around in the house.

The footsteps stopped outside her door.

The door handle turned and she felt a scream rise to the surface.

The door opened a crack, then wider.

Immediately, she recognized the outline of the person standing there. The identical outline she’d encountered a few weeks ago in her unlit kitchen. This time, she didn’t scream.