Barbara Daille - The Rodeo Man's Daughter

“Hey, mister…got a dollar?”

“Sure.” How many times had he asked that question himself? How many times had he sworn he’d never ask it again? He reached into his pocket for his wallet, thumbed it open and plucked out a bill without looking at it. “Here you go.”

“Wow. Gee, thanks. Thanks a lot.”

Caleb grinned. The boy’s grubby fingers clutched a hundred-dollar bill. He turned and raced across the road as if fearing Caleb would change his mind. He wouldn’t. He had plenty of money now.

Folks in town would sure be surprised to see him again, especially when he started spending that cash. When he started showing them just how far he’d come. Maybe then they’d look at him differently than they had years ago.

His grin fading, he shoved the wallet into his pocket and nodded.

Yeah. He’d show them, all right.

TOO EARLY to tackle his first order of business.

Caleb looked down the length of Signal Street, taking in the storefronts along the way. Insurance agency. Harley’s General Store. Pharmacy. Ice-cream parlor and clothing store. Everything the same as he remembered it from ten years ago. Except for the real estate office he planned to visit as soon as they opened.

How would Tess handle seeing him walk in the door?

The question stunned him, making him realize he wasn’t sure how he’d react to their meeting, either. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms.

He turned his back on the office and found himself staring at the Double S Café. Not much to look at, just a small square structure made of stucco. But Dori and Manny had brightened the place with pots filled with cactus plants all along the front and painted flowers and vines scrolling around the doorway. Above the door, a sign showed one letter S hooked on to another one. The Double S. That was new since his time.

Slowly, he made his way inside and along the jagged path between scattered tables to the rear of the café. He’d spent a lot of time in this cramped but cozy room, way back when, though not as one of the customers. How could he, when most days he went off to school without even any lunch money?

He settled on one of the stools that gave him a view through the open doorway into the kitchen. The owners, Dori and Manny, stood in conversation near the oversize oven. Dori spotted him first, her expression telling him she’d recognized him right away.

They hurried out to the counter.

Manny shook his hand and slapped him on the shoulder.

He stiffened when Dori leaned close to give him a long, sturdy hug. “It’s so good to see you, Caleb.”

Her voice hadn’t lost the trace of Spanish accent that had always flavored her words or its gentle tone. Now he’d grown old enough to tell it masked concern for him. Or pity? He hoped not. She squeezed his hand, and he saw that same concern in her eyes.

“Good to see you, too.” He had to clear his throat before he could continue. “Both of you.”

“We read about you in the newspaper. We sent you cards.”

Had they? If so, he’d left them behind unread when he’d transferred from the hospital to the rehab. He would have to give her the only response he could. “I didn’t write to anyone—”

“No matter. You were busy with the rodeo. And after that…” She shook her head. “You weren’t well enough, we know that. The judge called the hospital for more news. That was a terrible accident. Terrible.” She squeezed his fingers. “But you’re well again?”

How did he answer that?

As far as his body went, yes, he was back in one piece. As “well again” as the doctors said he might ever get. But in his mind and his gut…a different story there. All those months in rehab, he’d found himself with a lot of time to think about things. To run through the memories of his life up till then.

To develop a need that wouldn’t let him rest.

He couldn’t tell Dori about all that.

“I’m fine,” he said simply.

“And you’ve come home?”

He shot a glance around the café, recalling the many nights he’d swept the floors and cleared off the tables after the last customers had gone. The small, brightly decorated restaurant had once represented so much to him. A place to work, get a good meal and feel less alone. That might explain what had driven him to come in here this morning.

He’d first talked to Tess here, too. The memory caused his stomach to clench. The fact she worked in the only real estate agency in town made their reunion inevitable. Suited his purpose, too. She’d get a firsthand look at how well he’d done for himself.

He looked back at Dori and Manny, once the only friends he’d had. Almost the only family. But…come home?

He couldn’t tell Dori that, either.

“Just visiting,” he said instead. “And while I’m here,” he added, putting his plan into words, “I’m looking to buy some investment property.”

“But that’s wonderful,” Dori said, obviously delighted. “You will find yourself a nice house and want to settle down here.”

“I’ve got a house already—on a ranch in Montana.” He smiled to soften the words. “But it’ll be nice to visit for a while.”

A short while.

Seeing Dori and Manny had revived some of the few good memories he had, but they couldn’t outweigh the bad.

Once he did what he needed to do, proved he was the equal of anyone else in this town, he’d leave Flagman’s Folly behind him again.

For good.

COULD ANYTHING beat showing up for work on a Monday morning and finding a long, tall cowboy waiting on the doorstep?

Yes, Tess LaSalle decided. Unfortunately, cowboys came by the dozen around here. What she needed was one with money.

It was a gorgeous first day of June, worthy of any advertising blurb she could write to attract new clients to Wright Place Realty. But in their tiny town, there was not a client to be found.

Unless…?

Half a block away, she eyed the man leaning against the dusty pickup truck parked at the curb. From his black Stetson to his Western shirt with the shiny pearl snaps, he might have dressed to play a role. Yet one glance at his formfitting, threadbare Wranglers and well-worn black boots plainly announced the truth: he was the real thing.

Whether or not he had cash on the barrelhead remained to be seen.

Still, she hurried along Signal Street toward the storefront office. As desperately as they needed clients, she wasn’t about to let this one get away.

“Good morning,” she called, digging in her canvas bag for her key ring. “Let me get the office open for you.”

“Morning.” When she neared him, he held out his hand.

Automatically, she responded. His hand engulfed hers, the roughness of his fingers tingling all her nerve endings. She looked up to find his face hidden by the brim of his Stetson. She could see only a firm jaw and the dark stubble of five o’clock shadow. Another indication of a working cowboy and not a wealthy rancher?

As she watched, he lifted his head and tipped his hat, revealing thick, wavy dark hair and a pair of blazing green eyes.

Tess’s fingers trembled in his. She’d have given anything to disappear at that moment. He couldn’t have missed her reaction. Just as she couldn’t miss recognizing those eyes.

Caleb Cantrell had planned that move to startle her. He’d succeeded, more than he could ever know. Shock warred with guilt inside her.

Belatedly, she realized his hand still covered hers. A treacherous longing to hang on to him stunned her. Appalled by her own emotions, she snatched her fingers away and dropped her arm as if she’d been burned.

She took a long, deep breath and set her jaw. Forcing her voice to remain steady, she asked, “What are you doing here, Caleb?”