Heart of A Cowboy

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Zachary rose as the rest of the congregation did to sing the opening hymn, but he could hardly concentrate on the words of the song. Not with Jordan standing within arm’s length of him. So close he could tug her into an embrace. That thought sent panic coursing through him. He should have expected her to show up at church with her family attending the same one as he did and prepared himself better—hardened his defenses against Jordan, who had always managed to get under his skin like a burr in a saddle blanket.

After seeing Jordan with Nicholas yesterday at his ranch, he didn’t know if he could continue teaching her son how to ride. The boy reminded him of Jordan. He liked him a lot—probably too much.

When he looked at Nicholas, all he could think about was the child he never would have. The boy should have been his with Jordan. That had been his plan all those years ago. They would marry. He would make his living on the rodeo circuit until he had enough money for a ranch. Then they could start a family. He had his ranch thanks to a fruitful career on the rodeo circuit for five years. But now he couldn’t have any kids—not since the accident in the National Finals in bull riding. It had left him lame and unable to father the children he’d always wanted.

He sat again after the song, his hands clenched at his sides. There were a few days imprinted in his mind forever—when he first met Jordan, when they broke up and when he’d nearly died in the ring, riding a two-thousand-pound bull.

The longer he stayed in the pew behind Jordan the tenser he became. When the service ended an hour later, his muscles ached like they did when he was trying to rein in an untrained horse.

Nicholas turned toward him. “I didn’t know you go to this church. That’s neat. I had a great time yesterday.”

“I’m glad. Before long you’re gonna be riding rings around the others.” There was no way he couldn’t teach the boy how to ride. He had to find a way to stay away from Jordan and still help Nicholas. But he was beginning to think that would be impossible.

Nicholas beamed. “I want to be the best.”

Jordan angled toward her son. “The best what?”

“Rider. I hope to participate in barrel racing at the HHH Junior Rodeo.”

Jordan’s eyes grew round. “You do?” Then her mouth firmed into a thin line.

“Yes. If I’m good, Mom, then you won’t worry about me.”

“Hey, Nicholas, want to join us?” Randy called from the aisle.

“Okay, Mom?”

“Fine. We’ll be in the rec hall,” Jordan said while the rest of her family filed out the other end of the pew.

Leaving Zachary practically alone with Jordan. Even his own family had abandoned him. He faced her, the muscles in his neck tightening even more than before until he didn’t know if he could speak, which reminded him of the time years ago when they had first talked. He’d been sweaty, tired and tongue-tied, but he’d needed to make sure she was okay after her fall while cheerleading at the game.

“All the way home yesterday Nicholas couldn’t stop talking about his lesson. I wish I had stayed to watch it. I had an errand to run, but I’ll stay next week.”

“Don’t,” slipped out of his mouth before he could stop the word.

Her forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

“I think the less we’re around each other the better it is. Let’s face it. The time when we were friends is past. You go your way. I’ll go mine.” There was a part of him—a desperate part that couldn’t believe he was saying that to her. But it was true. Their time together was in the past. “But Nicholas—”

“He’s a joy to teach. He’s welcome to come for the riding lessons. But I want you to drop him off and come back to pick him up.” Because if she stood around watching, that would be all he would focus on. And he needed to concentrate on working with the kids, not on Jordan. She distracted him more than he wished. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my family.”

Striding away before she wanted to talk more, he scanned the near-empty sanctuary, surprised that most of the churchgoers had left. That was Jordan’s effect on him. She had the ability to wipe away his common sense. He could still remember that time years ago when he had been competing at a rodeo and Jordan had been late arriving to watch him. When he saw her sit in the stands, he kept his attention on her a few seconds longer than he should have. He ended up on the ground, his arm broken, berating himself for losing his concentration. He wouldn’t let her get close enough to do that again. Too dangerous.

On the following Tuesday Jordan parked in front of the barn in nearly the same place as she had on Saturday for her son’s second riding lesson. This time Nicholas wasn’t with her. This time she was on a mission: to find Zachary, get him alone and tell him about his son.

She knew she had to and waiting would only make it worse. Knots riddled her stomach, and she hadn’t eaten much in the past twenty-four hours. For a moment at church on Sunday, she’d contemplated telling him then, but he’d hightailed it out of the sanctuary so fast she hadn’t had a chance. It probably hadn’t been the best place anyway. They needed to be totally alone.

She saw the same black pickup as she had Saturday. She hoped that meant he was inside. Trudging toward the entrance, she surveyed the ranch. Several corrals with some horses surrounded the black barn. A little farther away were green pastures with groups of horses, some with colts and fillies. His place had a well-tended look about it, which didn’t surprise her because that was the kind of person she’d known as a teenager. He took care of his own.

Inside, the hay-scented air cooled a couple of degrees. She peered down the long center of the cavernous structure with stalls on each side. “Zachary,” she called out.

A short wrangler stuck his head out of an open door. “You just missed him. He’s at his house.”

“The blue one by the road?”

“No, ma’am. He lives due west. A small white place. You can’t miss it if you stay on the dirt road that runs in front of here.”

She smiled although the corners of her mouth quivered. “Thanks.” Seeing him at his house would be perfect. They could talk without being disturbed.

A few minutes later, she pulled up to a one-story white house, again well tended with a small vegetable garden to the left and a flower bed running the length of its front. Exiting her car, she inhaled a calming breath, full of the scent of the recently mowed grass. A swing hung from the ceiling of the wraparound porch, offering a comfortable haven at the end of the day. A sense of peace enveloped her as she took in her surroundings.

That peace was shattered a few seconds later when the front door opened and Zachary emerged from his house with a scowl on his face. She stiffened. The carefully prepared speech she’d rehearsed for hours wiped completely from her mind as he descended the steps and strode across the lawn toward her. His features were schooled in a neutral expression.

“What brings you out here?” His voice remained flat like the prairie around them.

Seeing him suddenly made her want to postpone telling him. Forever. The muscles in her throat convulsed. She backed up a few steps until she bumped into her car behind her and she couldn’t go anywhere else. Trapped.

I need to leave. How could they work together for Nicholas’s benefit? “I have to talk to you.”

“What do you want?”

“A glass of water.”

His brow crinkled. “What?”

“Water. I’m thirsty.” Anything to delay what she needed to do.

“You came all the way out here for water?” He threaded his fingers through his hair.

“No, but I could use some first.”

Several heartbeats later he shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He spun on his heel and marched toward his place.

Jordan fortified herself with another deep breath and trailed after him.

He banged into the house, closing the door on her.

The barrier didn’t bode well for the conversation she had to have with him. She sought the comfort of the porch swing and sat. Lord, I need your help. Please give me the right words to say to him.

The door opened, and Zachary came outside holding a tall glass with ice water in it. He handed it to her then lounged against the white railing and folded his arms over his chest.

Her hand trembling, she sipped several gulps of the cold water although it did nothing to alleviate the tightness in her throat. “Thank you. That hit the spot.”

His biceps bunched. “Why did you come all the way out here, Jordan? What’s going on?”

“I needed to talk to you in private. I thought this might be a good place and time.”

His jaw clenched. “For?” He crossed his legs, totally closing himself off to her.

Her heart pounded so fast and loud she wondered if he heard it. Perspiration broke out on her forehead, upper lips and her palms. “Nicholas…” Her son’s name came out in a whispered rush, the air sucked out of her lungs.

“Is this about homeschooling? I don’t know anything about that. Talk with Becca if you want. She could answer your questions.”

She put the glass on a table near the swing before she dropped it, then ran her damp palms on her capri jeans. Her chest rose and fell with the deep inhalation. “No, I went by and talked with Dr. Baker last Thursday. I’ve decided to take him out of school and teach him at home. I’ve got to do something different because what he’s doing now isn’t working.” The sense of doom and the sensation of being cornered besieged her as though she were under attack.

“Then what is it?”

Tell him. Before you lose your nerve. “Nicholas—” The blood rushed into her ears. She gripped the edge of the swing, her fingernails digging into the wood, her breath trapped in her lungs. “Nicholas loves coming out here, and I want to thank you again for giving him lessons.”

A sigh blew out between pursed lips. “What is it you’re avoiding? This isn’t like you not to come to…” His gaze latched onto hers. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He shoved away from the railing, not one emotion on his face. “How old is Nicholas?”

“He turned ten in April. He’s small for his age. He was born a month early. Nicholas is your son.”

He slumped back against the wooden post, clutching it. The dark stubble of his beard accentuated a gray pallor. His eyes fluttered. A flush of excitement glimmered in his expression. But quickly joy morphed into a bitter twist like a bundle of barbed wire. “You kept my son from me?”

She nodded slowly—all words lumped together into a huge knot in her throat.

His gaze clashed with hers. He opened his mouth to say more but snapped it closed, his teeth clicking from the force. Pivoting away, he clamped his hands on the railing and leaned into it. With his shoulders slumped forward, he dropped his head.

She collapsed back against the swing, twisting her hands together in her lap. She should have eased into the news. Cushioned the blow. But it wouldn’t have really made a difference. It wouldn’t change the fact Nicholas was his son.

Finally he turned slowly toward her. The painful look in his eyes tore down all her reasons for never telling him and made a mockery of the hurt she’d experienced at him not contacting her. Then a shutter fell over his face. He wore a cold mask as though they were strangers—adversaries, and she supposed they were now.

“Why didn’t you tell me this eleven years ago? Even a week ago?”

The lethal quiet of his words sent a chill down her spine. He wasn’t innocent in this whole affair. She’d given him two chances, and he’d ignored her—hurt her and left her to deal with Nicholas’s birth and illness by herself. She’d learned the hard way to rely only on herself and God. No one else. Certainly not him.