Brenda Minton - The Cowboy's Sweetheart

“That’s pleasant, Ryder. I’m sick of you asking me what’s wrong. You haven’t seen me in two months. Do you have something else you’d like to say to me?”

“Right here, right now?” That made his hands a little sweaty, especially when everyone at the table stared, including his nieces. Kat, who sat closest to him, looked a little worried. “No, I guess not. Well, other than wanting to know if you’d like to go the arena with me tonight. I could use a flank man.”

“I’m not a man.”

“Good point,” Wyatt mumbled.

Ryder shot his brother a look. “Keep out of this.”

Kat, two and innocent, clapped her hands and laughed.

A chair scooted on the linoleum floor. Ryder flicked his attention back to Andie. She was standing up, looking a little green and wobbly. Maybe it was the dress, or the three-inch heels. He stood, thinking he might have to catch her.

“What’s wrong?” Etta started to stand up.

“I’m going outside. I need fresh air.”

“I’ll go with you.” Ryder grabbed his hat off the back of the chair and moved fast, because she was practically running for the door.

She didn’t go far, just to the edge of the building. He stood behind her as she leaned, gasping deep breaths of air.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Stop.” She kept her face turned, resting her forehead against the old concrete block building. “I must have caught something from Joy’s kids when I stopped in Kansas. One of them was sick.”

“I could take you home,” he offered quietly, because he had a feeling she didn’t need more questions at the moment.

“I’m fine now. I would just hate to make the girls sick. They don’t need that.” She turned, smiling, but perspiration beaded along her forehead and under her eyes. She was still pale.

“No,” he agreed, “the girls don’t need to get sick. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“They’re just little girls.”

“Yeah, and I’m not anyone’s dad. That’s Wyatt’s job. He’s always been more cut out for the husband and father gig.”

And saying the words made him feel hollow on the inside, because he remembered standing next to Wyatt at his wife’s funeral. He remembered what it felt like to stand next to a man whose heart was breaking.

Ryder hadn’t ever experienced heartbreak and he didn’t plan on it. He enjoyed his single life, without strings, attachments or complications.

“You’re good with the girls,” Andie insisted, his friend again, for the moment. “Just don’t slip into your old ways, not while they’re living with you.”

“Right.” He slid his hand down her back. “I’ll be good. So, are you okay?”

“I’m good. I’m going back inside.” She took a step past him, but he caught her hand and held her next to him.

“Andie, I don’t want to lose my best friend. I’m sorry for that night. I’m sorry that I didn’t walk away…before. And I’m sorry I walked away afterward.”

She didn’t look at him. He looked down, at the ground she was staring at—at dandelions peeking up through the gravel and a few pieces of broken glass. He touched her cheek and ran his finger down to her chin, lifting her face so she had to look at him.

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to go back. We’ve always kept the line between us, Ryder. This is why.”

“We don’t have to stop being friends,” he insisted, hoping he didn’t sound like a kid.

“No, we don’t. But you have to accept that things have changed.”

“Okay, things have changed.” More than things. She had changed. He could see it in her eyes in the way she smiled as she turned and walked away, back into the Mad Cow.

A crazy thought, that he had changed, too. He brushed it off and followed her into the diner. He hadn’t changed at all. He still wanted the same things he’d always wanted. Some things weren’t meant to be domesticated, like raccoons, foxes…and him.

When they got home, Andie changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed for the barn. She was brushing Babe, her old mare, when Etta walked through the double doors at the end of the building.

“What’s going on with you?” Etta, arm’s crossed, stood with the sun to her back, her face in shadows.

The barn cat wandered in and Etta stepped away from the feline.

“There’s nothing wrong.” Andie brushed the horse’s rump and the bay mare twitched her dark tail and stomped a fly away from her leg. “Okay, something is wrong. Caroline is here. I don’t know what she wants from me. I don’t know why she expects to walk into my life and have me happy to be graced with her presence.”

“She doesn’t expect that.”

Andie stopped brushing and turned. “So now you’re on her side.”

“Don’t sound like a five-year-old. I’m not on her side. I’m on your side. I want you to forgive her. I want you to have her in your life. I have to forgive her, too. She broke my son’s heart. She broke your heart.”

Andie shook off the anger. Her heart hadn’t been broken, not by Caroline or anyone else.

“I’m fine.” She brushed Babe’s neck and the mare leaned toward her, her eyes closing slightly.

“You’re not fine. And this isn’t about Caroline, it’s about you and Ryder. What happened?”

“Nothing. Or at least nothing a little time won’t take care of.”

Etta walked closer. “I guess it’s too late for the talk that we should have had fifteen years ago,” she said with a sigh.

Andie swallowed and nodded. And the words freed the tears that had been hovering. “Too late.”

“It’s okay.” Etta stepped closer, her arm going around Andie’s waist.

“No, it isn’t. I messed up. I really messed up. This is something I can’t take back.”

“So you went to church?”

“Not just because of this. I went because I had to go. As much as I’ve always claimed I was strong, every time I was at the end of my rope, it was God that I turned to. I’ve always prayed. And that Sunday morning, I wanted to be in church.”

“Andie, did you use…”

Andie’s face flamed and she shook her head.

“Do you think you might be…”

They were playing fill-in-the-blank. Andie wanted option C, not A. She wanted the answer to be sick with a stomach virus. They didn’t want to say the hard words, or face the difficult answers. She wasn’t a fifteen-year-old kid. Funny, but until now she had controlled herself. She hadn’t made these choices. She hadn’t gotten herself into a situation like this.

She was trying to connect it all: her mistake, her relationship with God, and her friendship with Ryder. How could she put it all together and make it okay?

“Maybe it’s a virus. Joy’s kids had a stomach virus.”

“It could be.” Etta patted her back. “It really could be.”

And then a truck turned into the drive. Ryder’s truck. And he was pulling a trailer. Andie closed her eyes and Etta hugged her close.

“You’re going to have to tell him.”

“I don’t know anything, not yet. I don’t know if I can face this. I’m trying so hard to get my act together and I can’t pull Ryder into this.”

“Soon.” Etta kissed her cheek.

“When I know for sure.”

Ryder was out of his truck. And he was dressed for roping, in his faded jeans, a black T-shirt and nearly worn-out roper boots.

“You going with me?” He tossed the question before he reached the barn. His grin was big, and he was acting as if there was nothing wrong between them. Andie wished she could do the same.

“I don’t know.”

Etta’s brows went up and she shrugged. “I’m going in the house. I have a roast on and it needs potatoes.”

Andie watched her grandmother walk away and then she turned her attention back to Ryder. He scratched his chin and waited. And she didn’t know what he wanted to hear.