Twins for the Rodeo Star, page 16
It was reminiscent of old times. Her hair was fiery in the sunshine, and while he was too far away to read the expression on her face, she was clapping, along with her mother, grandparents and the boys. As his score was announced, the twins shot to their feet with the rest of the audience, pumping their small fists in the air.
Determined to avoid any appearance of showboating, he waved and exited the arena before the cheers died away. He shook hands with several of his fellow contestants, some of whom had opted for a re-ride because their bull had performed badly. A re-ride was chancy since you might lose out on getting any score, but it was a risk Josh had always taken.
Harry was there, as well. He’d been thrown before the required eight seconds on both go-rounds. Kelly had mentioned that he refused to join the rodeo association for senior competitors. Now Josh wondered if he was seeing his own future. He was at the peak of his performance, but it couldn’t last.
Watching Harry and the strain his lifestyle had put on Kelly and the rest of the family had been an education. More and more he agreed with Kelly that the boys needed a balanced view of rodeo life. He knew rodeo cowboys who’d hung on, destroying their marriages and becoming strangers to their children, even when they had no hope of being successful. He wanted his sons to be happy, and he didn’t want them getting hurt unnecessarily.
“You okay?” Josh asked, spotting the bandage on Harry’s forehead, stained with a blotch of red.
“Nothing important got broke. You did terrific. Nobody ever gets that high of a score in the Shelton rodeo.”
“I’ve been fortunate to draw a couple of feisty bulls.”
A roar rose from the audience as another contestant was announced and Josh recognized the teenager he’d met at the Shelton Saddle and Boot shop. Bull and rider shot from the chute. He did well and received a respectable rating from the judges.
“Congratulations,” he said when the kid returned. “You have a nice technique.”
Owen Corcoran’s face lit up. “Gee, thanks, Mr. McKeon.”
“Hey, it’s Josh.”
They chatted for another few minutes and he could have been talking to a younger version of himself, except Owen didn’t want to become a professional rodeo cowboy. Not that he needed to go on the professional circuit unless competing was his passion; his family already owned a ranch.
You own one now, too, Josh reminded himself. But somehow, a ranch compared with his sons was becoming less important, the same way stardom had lost most of its appeal.
* * *
FROM HER POSITION on the edge of the grandstand, Kelly could see little of the activity behind the chutes. She looked anyway, trying to spot her father and Josh.
Though he’d downplayed the showmanship side of competition, for each event Josh had worn a snug light blue Western shirt, long sleeves rolled to his elbows, with twisted red and blue bandannas around his neck. She’d seen enough pictures of him to know it had become his signature look. He also didn’t wear a protective helmet, just a plain tan cowboy hat that matched his chaps.
She tried to suppress the memory of how she’d once tied bandannas around his neck. Combining the two colors was something she’d started, as if she was branding him with her own special touch. Did he remember, too?
Women of all ages in the audience seemed to sigh with longing whenever he appeared. Kelly didn’t blame them. Josh was unusually tall for a rodeo cowboy and rode a horse as if born to be there. He was strong and coordinated and always looked in control, even on a wild bull or bronc.
That doesn’t mean he can’t get hurt.
Kelly’s stomach clenched. Even after all these years, she was still torn between admiration of Josh’s skill and the old fear that he’d be injured.
“I’m going for a cup of coffee,” Granddad said. “Anyone want to come with me to stretch their legs?”
The boys shook their heads, but Kathleen and Grams rose to their feet. They eased along the crowded row of seats to the staircase.
“Mom, why doesn’t Grandpa Harry come out to watch with us?” Casey asked when two other bull riders had finished their turn. “The loudspeaker guy said he got ’liminated.”
She pushed the small cowboy hat up her son’s forehead to see his face better. “He stays with the other contestants so he can encourage them and offer advice,” she said gently.
Marc shoulder-bumped his brother, a superior expression on his face. “Yeah. Don’t you remember from last year? Mom wouldn’t let us see the bull riding, but Grandpa didn’t come out during the other events.”
“I remember.” Casey glared at his twin. “But he told Grandma Kathleen that things are gonna be different now. Remember?”
Kelly was glad the rest of the family had stepped away. Kathleen didn’t need to hear her grandsons squabbling about their grandfather.
“That’s enough,” Kelly said before Marc could respond. “Grandpa Harry didn’t go to several of the spring rodeos he usually attends, but the Shelton Rodeo Daze is extra special.”
They recognized her tone; it meant the dispute was over. Period. She often let them settle things between themselves, just not in the middle of a large crowd wanting to enjoy the rodeo. And certainly not with her mother returning, coffee cup in hand.
Kathleen’s expression was more relaxed now that her husband had competed in his last event. The audience had been kind, despite Harry’s poor showing, but it made Kelly sad. For years he’d been the unofficial star of the Shelton Rodeo Daze and now someone else was center stage. He had to be feeling displaced. Still, her father was also responsible for Josh being in Shelton in the first place.
Was that karma, or just poor timing?
“Who did I miss?” Kathleen asked as she sat down.
“Owen Corcoran and a cowboy from the professional rodeo association in California. Both got decent scores. Depending on how Owen does tomorrow in the final short go, he’ll probably win the memorial buckle. That’ll almost be like keeping it in the family.”
Casey tugged on Kelly’s arm. “What d’ya mean, Mom?”
“Once upon a time your great-great-uncle Patrick was going to marry Owen’s grandmother. If Uncle Patrick had lived, she would have been your great-great-aunt.”
Casey settled down, digesting the relationship. “So Owen is kinda like a cousin, ’cept he isn’t, ’cause Uncle Patrick died.”
“That’s right,” Kelly said.
Another contestant was announced, drawing their attention. The bull charged from the chute, twisted once, throwing his rider. His hand remained tangled in the bull rope and a collective gasp came from the onlookers as he was dragged by the spinning, kicking animal.
The bullfighters raced to assist.
Kelly tried to cover Casey’s eyes at the same moment Kathleen reached for Marc, but the boys ducked away, watching excitedly as the rider was finally freed. It seemed horrific, but somehow he stood, waved at the audience and walked unassisted from the arena.
Kelly’s heart was still pounding when she looked back at the twins. They didn’t seem fazed. Casey was swinging his legs, chewing on the short straw from his snow cone, while Marc was pulling the last tufts of his cotton candy from a bag. Perhaps they were too young to understand how bad it could have turned out.
She’d struggled with the decision to let them watch the bull riding, but how could she have kept them away? This might be the last chance they’d have to see Josh compete, at his peak, at least. He wasn’t likely to be in the Shelton rodeo again; there were bigger venues, with much bigger purses. Besides, even Grams, who was notoriously protective, had pointed out that the chances were minimal of Casey and Marc being there when a serious injury occurred.
“Mom, where are Grams and Granddad?” she asked.
“Here we are,” called Grams, coming down the row of seats. “The lines are long and we were getting treats for you and the boys. We don’t have enough opportunities to spoil you the way grandparents are supposed to.”
Kelly grinned as she accepted a cup of coffee and a plate covered with a funnel cake, topped with strawberries, whipped cream and a drizzle of chocolate. This year the vendors had upped their game and added mini chocolate chips, as well. The twins were thrilled to see Granddad had gotten them batter-coated deep-fried candy bars—a first—and another bag of cotton candy each. Nutrition went out the window during the Shelton Rodeo Daze.
Kelly put the cup next to her, balanced the funnel cake on her knees and ate a bite.
Mmm. Culinary heaven.
“I see that,” Josh’s voice murmured close to her ear.
She looked and saw him standing next to the grandstand. He put a finger to his lips, but she wasn’t sure if he was telling her to stay quiet about his presence or promising not to tease about her decadent dessert. She broke off a chunk of the funnel cake and gave it to him, along with the coffee.
“I understand why you like this stuff so much,” he said after munching it down. Kelly handed him a napkin and pointed to the corner of his mouth. He wiped the fleck of whipped cream away with a grin.
“Hi, Josh.” Casey abruptly leaned over her knees, almost upending her plate. She rescued it just in time. “When did you get here?”
“A couple of minutes ago. Are you having fun?”
“Yup. You were real good on the bull and Grandpa Liam got us fried candy bars. They’re yummy. Wanna bite?”
“Uh, no, thanks. I’m fine.” Josh seemed disconcerted and Kelly bent closer.
“They were excited to see you compete, but that was a half hour ago and Granddad just brought them deep-fried chocolate to eat,” she whispered.
A thoughtful expression filled his eyes. “That’s okay. It was just a ride. Not even a very long one.”
She ate more of her funnel cake, wishing she knew what he was thinking. The twins finished the latest indulgence and asked her to guard their bags of cotton candy while they went with Grandpa Liam to wash their hands.
“Faces, too, please,” she said. Their mouths were stained with snow-cone syrup and mustard from the corn dogs, and now chocolate had joined the color palette.
They rolled their eyes, but Granddad winked. “Will do.”
Grams and her mother decided to go along again.
After a minute, Kelly handed Josh the second half of her funnel cake. “Can you finish this? I’m full.”
He quickly ate it between gulps of coffee and went to deposit the plate and cup in a trash can at the front of the grandstand. “Isn’t that Dr. Latham?” he asked upon returning.
She looked toward the arena and spotted Grant with Betsy Hartner by the fence. It was nice to see him with Betsy...and a relief. Kelly still felt bad about refusing Grant’s proposal, even though she’d known he didn’t really love her.
“Yes, with Betsy Hartner. She’s new in town. I met her at the barbecue and we’ve run into each other several times this week. Twice with Grant, and once with her landlady. Betsy must be a force of nature to get Maya Mapleton out in a crowd. Maya is notoriously shy.”
“Grant and Betsy look as if they’re discussing something intense.”
Kelly gave Josh a glance, remembering when he’d tried to find out if she and Grant were involved. In retrospect, she suspected it was his attempt to discover if another man could be the twins’ father. Would he have been relieved to discover he hadn’t committed parenthood after all?
“Grant and Betsy seem to spar a lot,” she said lightly. “When I saw them on Thursday at the carnival, they were in a heated debate as to whether Shakespeare’s comedies or tragedies are the best. The other time it was something else.”
“Sparks, then.”
“I suppose, but Betsy is a travel writer who moves from place to place every few weeks. It doesn’t bode well for them having a future.”
Kelly just hoped that Betsy’s friendship with Grant would remind him that there were other possibilities for romance beyond a woman who kept giving her heart to the same wrong guy.
Kept giving her heart...?
A chill ran through Kelly.
Surely she wasn’t falling for Josh again. It would be a mistake. He wasn’t a terrible person, but they couldn’t make a relationship work now, any more than they could have made one work seven years ago.
Josh quirked an eyebrow at her. “The future isn’t the only reason that two people date.”
Kelly gulped, trying to regain her composure. “Actually, it may be more of a frenemy situation. I gather the committee had fun throwing them together during the rodeo prep.”
“Like watching gladiators in the arena?”
“Along those lines.”
Thankfully, movement in the aisle grabbed her attention and she saw the others were returning. The boys led the way, followed by her mother and grandparents. She should have gone with them to avoid being alone with Josh.
It was getting dangerous to her heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LATE THAT EVENING Josh sat on the hood of his truck, taking in the star-studded Montana sky. The main house was dark and he knew it would be wise to sleep as well, but he had too much to think about.
The weeks he’d spent at Kindred Ranch had been an education. Harry’s determination to keep competing had put a terrible strain on his family, both emotionally and financially. Kelly was getting the ranch back on a solid footing, but she was having to work harder than was right. While she seemed to thrive on the challenge, Josh could see how tired she was at the end of each day, and it frustrated him.
How much worse would it be if they’d gotten married seven years ago? Would he have recognized what he was doing to her, or just gone his own, self-centered way?
He didn’t know and the question haunted him.
Josh looked up, sensing activity in the large house. A light came on in the upstairs window that belonged to the twins. When he saw Kelly pass the window for the third time, he couldn’t sit still any longer. The boys might be sick.
He jumped to the ground and found a small pebble to toss. It hit with a faint clink and Kelly reappeared. She opened the window and leaned out.
“Josh?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“Upset tummies.”
“May I come up?”
Even in the faint light, he could see the hesitation in her face. “Um, all right. The front door should be unlocked. Be quiet. I don’t want to wake anyone else.”
Josh hurried inside and up the stairs. Kelly was sitting with Marc, rubbing his stomach in a slow, circular motion. On the other twin bed, Casey had a pillow clutched to his midriff. He looked miserable, but he still managed to roll his eyes at each of his brother’s theatrical groans. Lark lay at the end of Casey’s bed, her worried gaze going back and forth between her two charges.
“Kelly, what can I do?”
“Take over here and I’ll go downstairs for saltines. They might help.”
Before leaving, she bent over Casey and kissed his forehead, murmuring something Josh couldn’t hear.
He rubbed Marc’s tummy, trying to emulate Kelly’s gentle rhythm, but even as his mother disappeared through the door, the six-year-old bolted upright, leaned to one side and heaved.
“Moooommmm,” he wailed. “I got sick on Josh’s cowboy boots.”
Kelly rushed back and grabbed towels from their bathroom. Josh accepted one, but was less concerned about the state of his boots than his son’s clammy skin. He changed the bedsheets while she got Marc into a fresh pair of pajamas and ran a damp washcloth over his face and arms.
Josh frowned. “Maybe we should call the doctor. Wycoff, right?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s just sugar and fried-food overload. I’ll be right back.”
He admired her composure. He finished cleaning the floor and the tips of his boots while she was gone, then checked on Marc again. Color had replaced his pallor and he was already curled up asleep.
“How are you, pal?” Josh asked, turning to Casey.
Casey stuck his bottom lip out. “Okay.”
Josh sat next to him. “It’s all right to admit when you feel sick.”
“Mom has enough stuff to do. I didn’t think we should wake her up, but Marc said he was dying and wanted her.”
An ache grew deep in Josh’s soul. Though Casey was only six, he was determined to protect Kelly. “I’m here. I’ll help.”
“’Cept she’s my mom.”
Pride joined the ache inside Josh. His quiet, stubborn son was going to take care of his mother, come what may.
Soft footsteps came into the room and Kelly looked back and forth between the boys, then sat on the other side of Casey’s mattress. “Try these,” she said, giving him a bowl of saltines and putting an open bottle of ginger ale on the bedside table.
Still holding the pillow to his tummy, he squirmed upright and ate a few of the crackers. He drank some of the ginger ale, burped, then ate a few more as Kelly rubbed his back.
“I don’t want ’nymore fried candy,” he muttered finally as he settled down again, eyes drooping. “It makes my stomach icky.”
“I know. Do you think you can sleep now?”
“Uh-huh.”
They waited until his breathing slowed into slumber before leaving. In the hallway outside their room, Josh leaned against the wall, drained. The boys weren’t seriously ill, but he’d practically panicked. “How do parents survive this stuff?” he muttered.
“It gets easier,” Kelly said softly. “Though you always worry and hate when they feel bad. Sorry about your boots.”
“They aren’t important.”
“Perhaps, but you should get to bed, too. You need rest for tomorrow.”
Tomorrow?
Josh looked at her blearily, then remembered the bull-riding finals. Taking his chances, he leaned over and gave her a quick, hard kiss.
