The Sweet Spot (17 page)

JB paced in the dirt.
If I’d have been an hour later
… He stopped in front of Char. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. He paced some
more.
What if I hadn’t come out today at all?
Scenarios swarmed in his brain like wasps, each one worse than the last.
Focus, JB, this isn’t helping.
When he thought he could speak without yelling, he stopped in front of her again.

“What the heck were you thinking, Charla Rae? Every reputable owner in the business
knows about Gandy. He’s
been fired from more jobs than we’ve got mice in the barn.”

She stood all of five feet tall and stuck out her chin. “I checked his references
first, Jimmy. I’m not stupid.”

“Had you ever heard of any of them? Know any of them personally?”

“No.”

He pushed his hat back on his head. “He gave you the phone numbers of his friends,
and they vouched for him.”

Her shoulders slumped. Her hat hid her face as she stared at her boots, but he heard
the shake in her voice. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I know it’s my fault. I put the stock in
danger. I just wanted so badly—”

He couldn’t help it. He snapped, “Did it even occur to you that you were hiring a
trainer for bulls that don’t belong to you?” She cringed as if he’d raised his hand
instead of his voice. Guilt bit into his stomach lining.
Jeez, Denny, kick a woman when she’s down—you’re not much better than Gandy.
He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Charla Rae.”

When she looked up, the regret in her blue eyes pierced him.

“I was afraid. It just came out as mad, and I’m sorry.” He pulled off his hat, to
run his shaking hands through his hair. “It’s just that I pulled up and saw that SOB
coming at you with a Hot-Shot…” He blew out a breath. It was shaky too. “I’m going
to have nightmares about what could have happened next for a long time.”

Did she really hate him so much that she’d rather have a sleazebag like Gandy helping
out around the place?

Looking down at the hurt in her eyes, he figured he knew the answer.

His words came out scratchy as sandpaper. “Charla, let me come back to work the bulls.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s the only logical solution, Hon. Who has a more vested interest
in them than me? Besides, my price is right, and you know I would never do anything
to hurt you or the animals.” He gave her his best smile.

He couldn’t tell her that he missed her more than the ranch or his bulls. That all
he wanted was to be close to her, to be a family again. She’d throw him off the property
for sure if she knew. Instead, he had to go slow. Maybe if she trusted him to help
out with the ranch, she’d trust him with other things, like her heart.

He noticed the minute she stopped listening. He recognized the look—that she’d heard
it all, had been down every one of those roads.

Well, she probably had. He snapped his mouth closed. Pork Chop stomped a foot to dislodge
a fly. A cow in the pasture lowed to her calf. He took a breath. “I know you have
no reason to trust me, Charla Rae. And guess I don’t deserve your trust.” He stuffed
his hands in his back pockets and looked her in the eye. “But when it comes to the
ranch and the bulls, I don’t fool around. I’ll make you a deal, a business deal.”

She watched him, wary as a rabbit without a hole in hawk country.

“Let me come back, to work the stock for a month. If, at the end of that month, you
still don’t want me here, I’ll find you a trainer.”

She cocked her head, looking for a trap.

“And I’ll pay half his wages out of my pocket.” He raised his hands slow, palm out.
“Straight up.”

She looked to the grazing herd in the pasture and thought on it.

“Well, the bulls have got to be trained.” She shrugged. “And after what I did, I guess
I owe you.”

He relaxed for the first time since he’d driven up. A reprieve. A chance to try to
make it up to her. Maybe she’d see that it was possible for them to be a team.

And who knew? Maybe having him around would remind her of the good times, and how
they were together. God knows, he didn’t need any reminders—nowadays, it seemed to
be all he thought about.

“I want one thing clear between us, Jimmy.” She squinted up at him. “Not one of your
women is to step foot on the place. Ever.”

“Not a problem. Don’t have any.” Before he could see how that registered, he turned
and walked for the truck.

To still have her back up about other women after all this time, she had to care.

Didn’t she?

Char retrieved the milk from the refrigerator, unscrewed the cap, and sniffed it.
Satisfied it wasn’t spoiled, she carried it to the counter.

What kind of idiot hires a trainer for bulls she doesn’t own? Maybe I’m better off
in the house, with what I know.
The Valium itch crawled over her brain, stronger than it had been in days.
And do what? Rearrange closets? If that’s all I can do, I might as well get the dang
bottle and take them all.

She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to let Jimmy back on the property. Worry zinged
under her skin, raising goose
bumps. How could she work side by side with him, a constant reminder of her life before?

She’d known him over half of her life. Would that make it easier for her to fall back
into the Jimmy habit?

She stared at the baking soda that she’d sifted into her bowl of baking powder biscuits.
“Of all the bone-headed, stupid—focus, Charla.”

Her dad looked up from the photo album on the kitchen table. “What’s the matter, hon?”

She picked up the bowl and dumped the contents in the trash. “Oh, I’m just discombobulated
tonight, Daddy.” She snagged the bag of flour on her way back to the counter. “I’m
as awkward as a high-schooler on the first day of home ec.”

He patted the seat next to him. “Come set a minute. Dinner can wait.”

She wiped her hands on her apron and rounded the counter. He’d lost the ability to
read, but since Rosa had discovered the photo albums, her dad carried one with him
most days. She sat next to him.

The page was open to a photo of her as a smiling teen, holding a blue ribbon from
the county fair above her prize-winning pie. “Oh, Daddy, I remember that.”

He turned the page. Photos of her and her mother, working in the garden. Her dad,
standing next to a prize steer. Their life, frozen in sepia moments. He turned another
page. Her heart stumbled as an eight-by-ten photo slapped her. A much younger Charla,
in wedding white. A leaner, less careworn cowboy, his arm around her, grinning like
he’d just won the lottery.

Her finger traced the edge of the picture. “God, we were so young.”

“Charla?”

She glanced over. Her father looked tired. The lines on his face deepened to furrows
as he gazed down at the album.

“When is JB coming home?”

She put a hand over his, on the table. “He’s not, Daddy.”

The weight of being a caregiver to her parent settled over her. She so missed leaning
on his strength and wisdom.

“How much longer are you going to make JB pay, Charla Rae? You know the accident wasn’t
his fault.” Sharp blue eyes studied her.

She jerked her head up. “I never blamed him for that, Daddy.” At least, she didn’t
think she did.

“Then why isn’t he here, washing up for dinner?”

No telling what facts had fallen out of the holes in his memory at any given time.
“It’s complicated.”

He pulled his hand from under hers, putting it on top. “You know that little girl
never meant squat to him, not really.”

Another jolt shot through her. She jerked her hand from his and peered at him. “Have
you been talking to Mom?”

His focus once more on the photo album, he turned another page. “I talk to your mother
all the time. She’s not real good about getting back to me though.”

J
B came awake with a snort. Something was different. Opening his eyes, he glanced to
the yard. The sun sparkled off the dew on the grass. Mockingbirds ran through their
morning repertoire. He hadn’t slept until dawn in weeks.

He threw back the covers, sat up, and took in a lungful of cool, morning-fresh air.
In spite of a sore back from the cot’s torture bar, he felt pretty good. After a satisfying
morning scratch, he limped to the box that held his clean clothes.

The orderly kitchen supplied java, but not company to go with it, so, coffee cup in
hand, JB stepped out the back door to find some. Wiley stood on the back porch, chortling
baby in arms, a canvas and aluminum contraption at his feet.

“Mornin,’ hoss. Guess I don’t have to ask how you slept.”

During his weeks of residence, JB had always been on his third cup of coffee by the
time the household awoke. “Where’s Dana?”

“She left for work a few minutes ago.” Monty, looking silly in his floppy blue sun
hat, waved plump arms, appearing more than pleased with the day. Wiley looked around
at his feet, then held the baby out. “Help me out here, will you?” Distracted, he
plopped Monty into the crook of JB’s arm. “This can be done solo, but it’s awkward.”
He bent to adjust the contraption’s nylon straps.

Steaming mug of coffee in one hand, armload of baby in the other, JB looked down.
The baby stared back. JB smiled. Monty looked worried. When his little eyebrows scrunched
up and lips pursed, JB knew he had to do something. Bouncing on the balls of his feet,
he crossed his eyes and blew Monty a raspberry. Making up his mind, the baby’s face
cleared, and he giggled.

The baby butt fit snug in JB’s arm; the soft weight leaned against his chest. A fierce
longing fired in him, taking his breath. Lowering his head, he touched his lips to
the baby’s forehead. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of powder and warm baby.

God, I miss you, Benje.

“Oh, shit, JB, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

He looked up to Wiley’s stricken face. “It’s all good. Me ’n Monty are just getting
acquainted.” Monty blew a raspberry back. JB chuckled past the tight wad in his throat.
“World’s full of kids, Wiley.”

Wiley shrugged into the metal contraption, and JB realized it was a baby carrier.
When he turned his back, JB set his coffee cup on the brick edge of the house and
settled the baby into the backpack. Monty grabbed a hank
of his father’s hair and slapped his back with the other hand.

“Yeah, I know, giddyup. We’re going.” Wiley shrugged the carrier higher and snapped
the buckle at his waist closed. “You want to check the herd with us?”

“A batch of smelly goats does not make a herd, partner.” JB put down regret and picked
up his coffee.

Wiley stepped off the porch. “Let’s not start up a range war this early in the morning.”

Once they left the mowed yard, the long grass left dark blue swipes of dew below the
knees of their jeans. The fresh air held only a glimmer of the savage heat that would
take over in an hour or so. The baby smacked the back of Wiley’s head again, and he
broke into a rocking gallop.

“Ride ’em, Monty! Let her buck!” JB trotted to keep up, then fell back into step with
the pair. “You know, Wiley, I flat don’t understand it. You’re so ugly your momma
gave you a meatball necklace to get the dog to play with you.” He looked out at the
rolling property, dotted with grazing goats. “Yet here you are, a spread, a wife,
a baby. How’d you get so lucky?”

Wiley chuckled. “Hey, even a blind squirrel finds an acorn every once in a while.”

They walked in silence for a bit.

“I didn’t cheat on her, you know.” JB watched a kid bounce around its mother, darting
and butting her in play. “The marriage was over in everything but law before I fell
into Jess’s bed. I know that doesn’t count for much, but—”

“Counts enough so you and I can stay friends, I’ll tell you that.” Wiley’s nonchalant
look didn’t fool JB. He was dead serious.

“I tried everything I knew to pull Char out of it.” The bleak mood of those awful
days after the funeral settled over him again, and it seemed that gravity exerted
a stronger pull on his shoulders than a few moments ago. “She went away, somewhere
in her head, and she wouldn’t let me follow. I tried being sweet. Tried to distract
her. Tried settling into a routine. But none of it seemed to touch her.”

JB rubbed the back of his neck. “I even booked a surprise trip for us to Hawaii. I
figured that maybe, in a different place…” He remembered Char’s panic when he surprised
her with the tickets. Like a cornered she-bear, her savage attack had rocked him.
She got in his face, screeching that she was not leaving home, and if he tried to
take her, he’d be sorry. He’d actually been frightened, seeing the glittering malice
in those eyes. “That didn’t work either.

“I knew it was over.” He looked at his friend. “Then I met Jess at an event. She was
like a tropical island after nuclear winter. The attraction was like some force of
nature.” He snorted. “And now here I am, turned out and too worn out for stud.”

“All that’s past, JB. You’ve gotta focus on what comes next.” Wiley strode forward,
hands in the carrier straps at his shoulders. “Once your feet are back under you,
you’ll move on.”

“Sure hope you’re right, partner.” JB put his fists to his sore back and stretched.
“I’m too old for this.”

Bella looked shaky as she pulled Pork Chop alongside Bar B. Char laughed. “Told you
she could turn through the eye of a needle!”

“I think I wet my pants.” Bella kicked out of the stirrups and slid to the ground,
clutching the saddle when her knees refused to support her.

Char laughed. “That’s how I felt the first time she and I cut cattle. Well, that’s
not exactly true. Pork Chop did all the cutting. I did the flopping-around part, just
like you.” She dismounted, and they walked the horses through the pasture to the gate.