Rodeo Reunion (3 page)

* * *

The whirring furnace knocked the chill off in the rental house. Second day of March and Slade had three months to figure out what came next.

“You're sure the landlord is okay with a dog as large as Blizzard in the house?” Slade gestured to the huge white fluff-ball inspecting every nook and cranny.

“He okayed pets.” Star, Aubrey's Realtor, grinned. “And didn't mention size restrictions.”

“Blizzard will be either outside or in the laundry room when I'm gone.”

“So does that mean you like it?”

He scanned the house. Sheetrock walls painted taupe with hardwood floors and simple furnishings. No bells or whistles. Perfect for him.

“When can I move in?”

“Today.”

“I'll take it.”

“Great.” Star went over the deposit, how much he needed to pay up front, when the rent was due and the exit policy.

“I plan to stay through May. Can I just pay it all in advance?”

“Sure, if that's how you want to handle it.” She tapped numbers on her tablet and gave him the grand total. “So my husband recognized your name. He said you were a major-league pitcher for the Rangers and you were really good.”

“I wasn't bad.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Until I tore my rotator cuff in the first season. My first surgery was a success, but against my doctor's orders, I rushed my recovery and tore it again during off-season practice.”

He'd sacrificed everything to follow his grandfather's footsteps into baseball. His laser focus had gotten him a baseball scholarship to college and then a ticket to the major leagues. But he'd been so focused he'd never even had a girlfriend in high school.

So ten years later, here he was with just Blizzard to keep him company. No wife, no family except his grandparents and a sister who didn't even know about him.

He signed the check and handed it to Star in exchange for the keys. “I hope my neighbors won't have any problem with Blizzard.”

“I don't think you'll have any problem with the neighbors.” Her phone rang. “I need to get this. Let me know if you need anything.” She waved and backed out the front door.

Hmm. Did the neighbors have a bigger, noisier dog than Blizzard? Or maybe fifteen dogs?

“Woof.” Blizzard's bark echoed through the sparsely furnished house.

“Want outside, boy?”

The dog's ears perked up and his bushy tail thumped.

“How about a walk?”

“Woof.” The huge dog quivered with anticipation.

And people thought dogs didn't understand. He clipped the leash onto Blizzard's collar and headed for the front door.

* * *

“Mom.” Hunter got two syllables out of the word. “Throw it right.”

“I'm trying, sweetie.” Raquel concentrated on the spot where the seven-year-old's bat would swing and threw the baseball with all her strength. Her shoulder protested. She'd probably thrown it out of socket.

The pitch looked good. Right height, but it sailed two feet out of Hunter's reach.

“Mom.” Two syllables again.

“I'm doing the best I can.” She massaged her shoulder. “I never pitched. Maybe Uncle Brant can help.”

“He's on tour, and besides, he never pitched either.” Hunter poked at the piece of two-by-four—their makeshift home plate—with his bat. His shoulders slumped. “It doesn't matter. I can't do it anyway.”

“Don't say that.” His defeat squeezed her heart. “You can do anything you set your mind to.” With Hunter's first baseball practice next week, she'd wanted to encourage him. Instead she'd discouraged him with her lousy pitching skills.

Why, why, why did Dylan have to die? Hunter needed his father. If Dylan had been here, Hunter would already have been hitting home runs. But Dylan wasn't here. And Raquel had to do this alone.

“I wish my dad was here.”

Her vision blurred. “Me too, sweetie.” But all Raquel had left of Dylan was his seven-year-old spitting image waiting for a decent pitch. And Hunter would never really know his father, no matter how hard she tried.

“Surely there's somebody in this town who can pitch a baseball. We'll find somebody.”

Like Slade Walker. He'd pitched for a short time in the major leagues. What were the odds of running into
him a few weeks ago? But he'd probably been only passing through.

“Who's that man?” Hunter looked past her.

Raquel turned.

A man and a large white dog stepped through the line of dormant crepe myrtle trees lining her property.

She stiffened, ready to protect her cub, but recognized the familiar smile.

“Did I hear something about needing a pitcher?”

“Mr. Walker?” As if she'd wished him into existence.

“T
he one and only.” Slade grinned.

And his grin revved her heart. She clasped a hand to her chest. Maybe it was the surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was taking Blizzard for a walk.” He stopped beside her and patted the dog's head. The dog settled in at his feet. “And I heard some baseball going on.”

“Can I pet your dog?” Hunter cut around her to get to the dog.

“Sure, he's a big softy.”

“Hi, Blizzard. My name's Hunter. What kind of dog are you?”

“Great Pyrenees. They're bred to protect sheep.” Slade knelt beside the pair and scratched the big white head. “I knew from the size of his feet when he was a pup he'd end up being too big to be called Snowball.”

“You have sheep?” Hunter giggled as the dog licked his cheek.

“No. But I used to work with a lot of horses, and Blizzard's breed is good with livestock, too.”

“You live here?”

“Just rented the place next door.” Slade glanced at their ranch-style house. “You live here?”

“We moved here last May.” Hunter grinned as Blizzard crouched in his “wanna play” stance.

Next door? Raquel had seen vehicles and a camper earlier but hadn't had time to be neighborly. She'd never dreamed Slade would move in.

Slade seemed to remember Raquel was there and stood.

“Mr. Walker just happens to be a pitcher, Hunter. A major-league pitcher. Remember that autograph I gave you?”

“Really?” Hunter's eyes grew wide.

“That was a long time ago.” Slade rubbed his shoulder.

“Can you pitch for me?”

“I'm sure Mr. Walker doesn't have time right now.”

“It's not a problem. It's what I came over for. Unless you think Dylan might have a problem with me helping Hunter.”

Her gaze flew to Hunter, but he'd forgotten about baseball for the moment and was rolling and giggling in the grass with Blizzard.

“Dylan died three years ago,” she whispered.

“Oh.” Slade swallowed hard. His eyes reddened. “I'm sorry. I had no clue.”

“I tried to contact all of his friends.” Something went soft inside her and tears burned the backs of her eyes. After three years sometimes it still hit her as if she'd just lost him. Especially when she had to tell someone new. And especially when that someone had known and loved Dylan, too.

She blinked hard. “Hunter, baseball. I'm sure Mr. Walker doesn't have all night.”

Hunter jumped up, ran toward home plate and picked
up his bat. Blizzard lay content in the grass where Hunter had left him.

“Come here, Blizzard.” Raquel clicked her tongue. The large dog followed obediently and she settled on the porch steps. Blizzard rested at her feet and she scratched around his furry ears.

Why hadn't she thought to get Hunter a dog? While they'd lived in Garland, their apartment wouldn't allow pets. But she'd fulfilled her and Dylan's dream by moving to the country. Ten months after the move and she hadn't even thought of getting a dog.

“Choke up on the bat. Set your feet apart a little wider and line 'em up with the plate.”

Hunter squeezed the bat, adjusted his stance and looked even more awkward.

“Here, let me help you.” Slade jogged over to Hunter. “
Choke up
means move your hands higher on the bat.” He adjusted Hunter's grip, then moved to the other side of the plate and showed Hunter the proper stance. Hunter mirrored Slade's posture, and all his awkward angles were gone.

“That's so much better.” Raquel clapped her hands. “You look like a pro.”

“Thanks, Mr. Walker.” Hunter's wide grin put a smile in her heart.

“Just call me Slade.” Slade returned to the pitcher's mound—another piece of wood. “Ready?”

Hunter nodded and Slade fired the ball—the perfect pitch. Hunter swung but didn't connect. His shoulders slumped again.

“Swing your bat level. You swung under and then up. Practice before I pitch again.”

The bat made an undercut and then veered up again.

Slade jogged over to him. Standing behind her son, he
clasped the bat and swung in a straight line. “Like that. Now do it without me.”

Hunter swung the bat in a straight line.

“That's it—keep it level just like that.” Slade jogged back to the mound and lobbed a pitch.

Raquel's fists curled and her nails dug into her palms.

Hunter swung. Thwack. The ball sailed into the air.

“Woo-hoo!” Raquel jumped to her feet, clapping.

Red splotches stained Hunter's cheeks, but his grin was a mile wide.

“That's it. You've got it.”

“Can you pitch me some more?”

Raquel checked her watch. “Homework time. Besides, Slade probably needs to get going.”

“Aw, Mom.”

“Don't argue with your mom.” Slade patted the boy's shoulder. “And appreciate her for trying to pitch for you. At least she tried.”

“Yes, sir.” Hunter shot her a sheepish grin as he climbed the porch steps. “Thanks, Mom.”

The screen door slapped closed and Slade sat down beside her. “He's a great kid.”

“Thanks. We do pretty good most of the time.” Until he'd signed up for baseball. “I never played softball, so I'm not much help. But Hunter loved baseball in Garland, so I thought signing up here would get him out of his shell and help him make some friends.”

“Why did y'all move here?” Slade scratched Blizzard's ears.

She dug her fingers into the soft white fur along the dog's side. “A child changes things. After an incident at school, Dylan and I decided we wanted to raise Hunter in the country. But then Dylan died.” And her parents tried to convince her to move home. But she'd wanted Hunter
to feel secure and know they could make it on their own. “I decided I should fulfill Dylan's dream.”

“Why Aubrey?”

“Dylan and I brought Hunter to a dude ranch here when he was three. He doesn't remember it, but Dylan and I both fell in love with the town. Last year my brother ended up moving here because his best friend lives here and helped him get a job.” She shrugged. “There was an opening for a school nurse here and everything fell into place as if it were meant to be.”

“Hunter seems well adjusted.”

“He tends to be shy around other kids and so far he's only made one friend since we moved here. It's been worse since my brother's job took him on the road. He was reluctant to go because of Hunter, but I convinced him we'd be fine until he gets back.”

“What happened to Dylan?” His voice came out tight. “I mean, if you don't mind telling me.”

“It's fine.” She cleared her throat. “He made it as a Texas Ranger like he always planned, but he died in an off-duty car wreck.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” Her gaze scanned the horizon. “What brings you to Aubrey?”

“I'm taking a sabbatical from my rodeo chaplaincy. My mentor thought I needed a break and after I ran into you, I decided to move here and catch up…”

“With Dylan. I wish you could.” She sighed. “I remember Dylan talking to you on the phone about being a rodeo chaplain. I imagine it can be frustrating, like any ministry.” She still couldn't picture him at the rodeo.

After watching old games with Dylan, she'd have never imagined Slade wearing any kind of hat other than a baseball cap. But his cowboy hat somehow fit.

“It's not exactly what I set out to do with my life.” He
shrugged. “But it's been more fulfilling than anything I've ever done.”

“So, how long will you be here?” The house next door was a rental house.

“Three months. Maybe I'm getting old, but the road's rough and it's not really a good place to find someone to settle down with. Most of the ladies are attached to the cowboys traveling the circuit.”

Settling down? Slade Walker wanted to settle down. And he couldn't find anybody single and willing? The breeze blew through his dark waves, a sharp contrast to those sage-green eyes.

“So God gave me the opportunity to take a break. Relax in quiet little Aubrey, Texas, and hopefully get my fire back for the road.” He turned to face her. “I thought I'd catch up with an old friend and never dreamed…”

“Yeah, me neither. If you'd have told me back when I met Dylan that I'd be a widow by the age of twenty-four, I'd have laughed.”

“Even with him being in law enforcement?”

“I never worried about his job.” She shrugged. “A lot of the wives and girlfriends do, but I just didn't. And in the end…the job didn't cause his death.”

“How's your friend Caitlyn?”

“She and Michaela Natasha Warren are both fine.”

“That's a pretty name, but it's a mouthful.”

“After her father, Mitch, and her aunt Natalie.” A brown butterfly with yellow-lined wings flitted about the bluebonnets. The first she'd seen this spring. Butterflies always gave her a sense of tranquility. “I hope she's a good speller.” Raquel laughed.

“Did you know Caitlyn before you moved here?”