A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3) (12 page)

“Of course I do. I’ve invited Rachel to attend our church. But whether she comes or not is a matter of personal conscience, which she’s free to decide for herself.”

As Dorothy stalked away in a huff, Rachel gazed at him. “Thanks for the defense.”

“My pleasure. Don’t let her bully you—she tries it with everyone. I’m always hearing about something new I’ve done wrong.”

There was a question in her eyes, but before he could investigate, Jim and Martha Bolan joined them.

“We were just talking,” Jim said, after Garrett had introduced Rachel, “and realized it’s been months since we had you over to Sunday dinner, Pastor. And we’re correcting that mistake right now by asking you to eat with us this Sunday, right after church. Dr. Vale, we’d love it if you could come, too. Our kids will be there—we’ve got five of them, all living close, though they couldn’t make it tonight—so you’ll be able to meet everyone. Don’t disappoint us, now. It’s the Fair Fields Ranch, on down the road from the Circle M. Pastor Garrett knows how to get there, so maybe you two could ride together.”

“I’m making pot roast,” Martha added. “Best in the county, Jim says.”

“You do have to wonder,” Garrett said, as the Bolans left, “how many different pot roasts he’s tasted to be certain that hers is the best in the county.”

Rachel surveyed the party, which was winding down. “If you have a lot of potluck dinners, he might have been able to sample quite a few.”

“Point taken. The church does this kind of thing pretty often. People enjoy eating together.”

She gave him a sharp glance. “These sorts of experiences make you a part of the community, right?”

Laughing, he held up his hands in surrender. “I plead the Fifth.”

Haley Brewster put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad those kids of yours had their wits about them, Pastor. I didn’t plan on a rumble at this shindig.” She nodded to Rachel. “I believe you’re officially off duty, Doc. About the only folks left are the Marshalls and their bunch. You must be tired from shaking so many hands. I sure am.”

“Let me help you clean up,” Rachel said. “There’s a lot to put away.”

But Haley wouldn’t hear of it. “The Marshalls will deal with it tomorrow. You just get on home.” She waved off Rachel’s thanks, walked up the porch steps and went into the house.

“She wants a cigarette,” Garrett said. “But she hates smoking in front of people.”

Rachel frowned. “I suggested she quit.”

“Lots of people have, for about sixty years. Including her husband. And he died first, so you probably won’t get her to change.” Across the yard, he caught a signal from Ford that they were heading for the cars. Steeling his nerve, he put a hand on Rachel’s arm. “I’ve got my truck here. Can I give you a ride home?”

To his surprise, she smiled. “I’d like that.”

The walk to his truck took five minutes, and the drive to her place five more. They didn’t speak until they started up the sidewalk. “By my estimation, you met most of the town,” Garrett said. “I suspect you’ll be seeing all of them in your office eventually. You made a great impression.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t get a chance to mention earlier how beautiful you are tonight.”

She climbed the porch steps and turned to face him. “And I haven’t had the opportunity to thank you for organizing the whole event. Caroline mentioned how hard you worked on this evening.”

“Just a few phone calls.”

“Right.” Her hands came to rest on his shoulders. “You’re a very generous man, Garrett Marshall. With your time, your attention, your energy.”

He pretended to duck his head. The embarrassment, though, was real. “Aw, shucks, ma’am.”

When he looked up again, her smile had faded. “So were you just trying to annoy Dorothy Simpson tonight, or did you mean what you said? About whether or not I come to church?”

That searching expression was in her eyes again. Garrett took a deep breath. “I understand your point of view, Rachel. I’m hoping one day you’ll change your mind, but until that happens, I can’t force you into anything. I won’t try.”

“Does it bother you? That I don’t participate in the community that way?”

He wished she hadn’t asked that particular question. “Honestly? Yes.”

“Why?” She let her hands drop to her sides.

“I’ve experienced how rewarding and healing life can be as part of the church. Support in your grief, celebration with your joy—I want those experiences for you as a person I care about.”

“But you’re willing to accept my choice?”

Garrett tried to lighten the moment. “I’m prepared to tolerate some uncertainty in life. I—”

“Tolerate?” Rachel glared at him. “You’re going to
tolerate
me?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He reached out, but she retreated toward the door. “I should have said
accept
. I
accept
some uncertainty.”

She shook her head. “It occurs to me that you’re the one who has problems with trust.”

“I would trust you with my life. Literally.”

But the damage was done.

“This is exactly what I predicted from the very beginning,” she said. “We can’t have a relationship because we are destined to hurt each other. No matter how we much we lo—care, this one issue will cause conflict until I give in or you give up. How can we be happy under those conditions?”

“I’m willing to try.” Even as he said it, he realized he’d lost the battle.

“We shouldn’t have to try, Garrett. Being together should be easy and fun. Not something we have to work to get through.”

“We get along fine. Rachel—”

“Let’s agree to keep our distance,” she said, staring somewhere over his shoulder. “That will make things easier.”

“We’re supposed to have lunch with the Bolans on Sunday. Monday the kids are riding steers. You’re the doctor, I’m the pastor. In a town this small—”

“So we’ll just...cope.” She went the rest of the way to the door. “Good night.”

Before he could protest, she’d let herself inside and closed the panel. The click of the lock sounded loud in the darkness.

* * *

R
ACHEL
WALKED
OUT
of the house at twelve thirty on Sunday with her car keys in her hand. Just as she set foot on the sidewalk, Garrett’s truck pulled up at the curb. He was already at the passenger door when she got to the curb.

She frowned at him. “What are you doing here?”

“We said I’d pick you up, since I’m familiar with Fair Fields Ranch.” He wore his clerical shirt and collar, along with a serious expression she wasn’t used to. “There’s no sense wasting fuel.” He opened the truck door. “Ready to go?”

Short of an undignified argument, there was no way to refuse. “Thanks.”

The silence, as they drove out of town, was nerve-racking. “What did the kids do yesterday?” she asked, deciding polite conversation would have to be better. “Bucking practice?”

Garrett nodded. “In the afternoon. Saturday mornings are scheduled for cleanup, when everybody shares in the housework. There’s also laundry—all the bedding gets washed.”

“I’m sure this happens without complaints.”

He glanced at her sideways but didn’t smile. “Have you met Marcos? Sure, there are protests, but nothing else happens until the work is done. Boredom will get to them, if peer pressure doesn’t.” They passed the gate for the Circle M. “We had a campfire Saturday night...with s’mores. Lena settled for trail mix and everyone else was satisfied.”

“Good for her. She’s come a long way in just a few days.”

“She has.”

That disturbing silence fell again, and Rachel couldn’t conceive of how to break it. She wasn’t used to Garrett being quiet. He always seemed to have something to say, usually something funny. But then, nothing seemed especially funny today.

Finally, they came to a set of log gates with ranch buildings visible beyond. “Fair Fields Ranch,” Garrett said. “Home of the Bolan clan.”

The number of cars parked near the house surprised Rachel, but she was even more startled by the horde of young children running around. “They have grandchildren, too?”

“Twelve or thirteen,” he said. “There may be a new one this summer, I can’t remember.”

And they had all come for lunch. The meal was served buffet-style from the long kitchen counter, with adults seated in the dining room while the older children ate in the breakfast nook. Infants and toddlers joined their parents, which made the atmosphere hectic, to say the least. Keeping track of names proved impossible. There were several juniors among the little boys, plus Junior, the Bolans’ oldest son. A gaggle of little girls all seemed to have names starting with
A
—Ashten, Amanda, Avery and Addy among them, but they were so close in age and moved so quickly that Rachel couldn’t tell them apart.

At Mrs. Bolan’s direction, she and Garrett sat next to each other, which diminished Rachel’s appetite considerably. On her other side was a Bolan daughter—Ginny? Jeannie?—with a two-month-old in her arms and a two-year-old in the high chair beside her. Their opportunities for adult conversation were scarce.

As Rachel toyed with her food, Garrett said in a low voice, “Best pot roast in the county. Better eat up.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, biting her lip.

His gaze met hers for the first time that day. “At least I can still make you smile.”

Though the meal continued for quite a while, she couldn’t force herself to eat another bite. He could still make her smile because she loved him, but her awareness of the barriers between them cramped her heart.

“Now, you two be sure to come again,” Martha Bolan said as they were leaving. “You’ll have noticed how much we enjoy young people.” She held Rachel back as her husband walked toward the truck with Garrett. “And I always have a soft spot in my heart for a courting couple.”

“Oh...no.” Rachel shook her head. “We’re not...together. Really.”

The older woman winked at her. “I see what I see.”

“You could have warned me,” Rachel told Garrett when they were in the truck again and outside the Fair Fields gate. “I had no idea there would be so many of them.”

“Nothing can prepare you for Sunday lunch with the Bolans,” he said. “Actually, the kids were pretty calm today. Imagine their house at Christmas.”

“I’d rather not. But her pot roast really is delicious.”

“Yes, it is.” He grinned at her, she grinned in response, and for a moment there were no barriers, no insoluble conflicts to face. Just the two of them sharing a joke on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Until Garrett remembered. His grin faded away. He faced forward again, his expression carefully blank.

Embarrassed, Rachel gazed out the side window and surrendered to the silence.

She spoke only when he’d stopped in front of her house. “Thank you for the ride. Lunch was...an experience.” When Garrett started to get out, she put up a hand. “I can get it. I’d rather. Really.”

“Okay.”

She stepped down from the truck and went to close the door, but stood staring, instead, at the pain on Garrett’s face.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a rough voice.

Unable to summon her voice, she nodded.

Then she shut the door between them and started down the sidewalk. By the time she’d made it to the steps, he’d driven away and she was free—free to relax, to sit on the top step and put her arms around her bent legs.

Free to put her head down on her knees and let the tears come.

Chapter Eleven

When Garrett entered the bunkhouse on Monday morning, he found two of the boys already awake.

“This will be so cool.” Sitting on the arm of the sofa, Thomas had one arm stretched over his head while the other hand grabbed the upholstery. “I’m gonna stick with that sucker no matter which way he goes.” Jerking from side to side, he was obviously pretending to ride a bucking animal.

“Yeah, sure.” Sprawled in an armchair, Marcos was already dressed. “We’ll see who lasts the longest. I’m betting it won’t be you.”

Thomas stopped riding. “What do you want to bet?”

Marcos rolled his eyes. “You don’t have anything I want, dude.”

“You’re just afraid you’re gonna lose.”

“I’m not afraid.” Marcos surged to his feet, fists clenched. “I will win.”

“There’s no winning or losing today.” Garrett put his hand on Marcos’s shoulder. “Just having fun. Do you two have your safety gear ready to go?”

With the conflict averted, he went in to wake Justino and Nate, an easier task than usual because all the kids were excited about the day’s adventure at Twin Oaks Ranch. Thomas and Marcos could hardly concentrate on cooking breakfast—the scrambled eggs were a little too well-done and some of the bacon had a bit of char on it. Becky’s potatoes were nicely crisp, but Justino had burned the toast.

Garrett surveyed his plate and then quietly dropped the food into the trash while the kids weren’t looking.

“Not smart,” Ford said quietly. “You’re going to wish you had those calories before lunchtime rolls around.”

“Coffee’s enough.” Garrett took a deep draw from his mug. “I’ll be okay.”

“Considering what little you’ve eaten in the past few days, I’m not so sure. If you’re sick—”

“I’m as healthy as a horse. You worry too much.”

“And you’re not sleeping enough. I hear you walking around in the middle of the night. What’s the problem?”

“Nosy brothers. I’m fine, Ford. Drop it.” He emphasized the last two words with a glare.

Ford took offense, as Garrett had hoped he would. “Be glad to.” Shoulders stiff, he went to talk to Caroline as she supervised kitchen cleanup.

Making Ford mad was often the only way to distract him. Garrett hated the necessity, but he didn’t intend to discuss Rachel with anybody, not yet. Maybe after a while, when the ache had eased, he’d be able to talk about it.

Right now, he was gathering all his strength to face her again. Yesterday’s lunch with the Bolans had stretched the limits of his fortitude. Today, at least, he would have the kids demanding his attention, and a crowd of adults to distract him. This trip would not be easy, but somehow he’d have to get through it.

As soon as Caroline approved the kitchen cleanup, they started loading gear into the van—not a moment too soon, as far as the kids were concerned. Susannah brought out boxes of snacks and bagged lunches while Dylan and Garrett lugged coolers full of ice and bottled water. Rachel arrived in the midst of the process, bringing along the giant duffel with all her medical supplies.

Garrett went to meet her. “I’ll put that in the truck.” He managed a grin. “Thanks for coming along. With luck, your presence will be completely unnecessary.”

Her smile was as strained as his. “That’s what I’m hoping.” She watched the teenagers as they milled around, anxious to get going. “Does Lena have her supplies? And a snack, in case her blood sugar gets low?”

“We’ve got plenty of food. I checked with her and she says she’s brought everything she needs, so we’re ready to go. You can ride in the truck or in the van with the kids. Your choice.” He wasn’t sure which would be easier for him. She would be on his mind either way.

“I’ll go with the kids,” Rachel said. “In case there’s bloodshed.”

“Smart plan. Ford and Caroline will be with you.” They stood side by side, not speaking, as the kids climbed into the vehicle. Garrett had never felt so awkward, so self-conscious. So hopeless. “We’ll meet you at Twin Oaks.”

They drove north to Buffalo, then east toward Gillette before heading south into the area bordering the Thunder Basin National Grasslands.

“Such a different landscape.” Susannah spoke from the backseat. “Just the rolling prairie and no mountains in sight.”

Dylan was riding shotgun. “Now imagine these endless plains being home to huge herds of buffalo. Has Amber ever seen a buffalo?”

“They had one at a rodeo we went to, but she was probably too young to remember.”

“Dave Hicks has a small herd at the ranch,” Wyatt said from behind Garrett. “You might be able to get a glimpse of them when you’re on the stagecoach ride.”

“I learned ’bout buffalo,” Amber said. “Wyatt read me a story.”

Dylan looked at her. “What did you learn?”

“They were stinked,” she announced.

There was a moment of silence as the adults sought to understand.

Then Wyatt chuckled. “
Ex
tinct,” he said. “The buffalo were almost extinct.”

“That’s what I said.”

Laughing, Garrett followed the van underneath the archway announcing Twin Oaks Ranch. Fences stretching as far as the horizon enclosed rolling pastures dotted with cattle. The white-trimmed brick house sat on a slight rise, with the rest of the ranch complex sprawling around it—barns and work sheds, corrals and pens. Ford stopped the van near a big gray barn and Garrett pulled the truck up beside it. As they all climbed out of the vehicles, a man came striding toward them from a building across the road. He was tall and husky, with red hair and a thick mustache.

“This must be the traveling rodeo show.” His voice carried easily to every ear within five hundred feet. “Welcome to the Twin Oaks.” He shook Wyatt’s hand. “I’m glad you’re out and about, man. Had the same thing happen once—seemed I’d never get back to work. Whole place went to hell.”

“Lucky for me I’ve got three brothers to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Wyatt introduced the adults and then gestured to the kids, standing in a bunch nearby. “And these are your contenders for the day.”

Dave Hicks shook hands with each of them. “I’m happy to have you here. We’ve got your steers waiting for you in the pen, a stopwatch in my pocket and I’m wearing my whistle ’round my neck.” He demonstrated with a quick toot. “Get your gear and let’s go scope out the arena.”

Marcos, Lena and Thomas rushed to the rear of the van, and then followed the rest of the group in Dave’s footsteps as he headed around the side of the barn. In the near distance stood a large metal pen about two hundred feet across, with a bucking chute and a couple of pens on one side. Six steers occupied one of the enclosures, projecting the essence of bovine complacency.

“They don’t appear wild,” Rachel said, stopping to observe. She’d insisted on carrying her medical duffel herself.

“Right now, they wouldn’t waste the energy.” Garrett paused beside her. “But put a rider on them, and they suddenly have a mission in life.”

“Which is what we’re here to do.” Shaking her head, she walked on. “I watched some steer-riding videos on the internet. I was not reassured.”

He allowed her to walk ahead of him rather than endure the tension between them. When he caught up with the group, Dave was demonstrating the gate in the bucking chute for the kids.

“You’ll sit down, wrap your rope good and tight, and then when you’re ready, we’ll swing this gate open and out you’ll go. We’ve got a nice soft dirt floor for your falling pleasure, so once you’ve done your eight seconds, just get yourself off.”

“When can we ride?” Lena asked, her eyes eager.

Dave laughed at her enthusiasm. “I’ll call some extra hands over here and we’ll get you started, little lady.”

Garrett went to stand by the two boys. “You guys set?”

“Oh, yeah,” Thomas said. “This will be so awesome.”

Marcos pumped his fist in the air. “I’m riding to the whistle!”

“Not without your vest and helmet,” Garrett reminded them. “Better get those on.”

The four kids who weren’t riding, along with Caroline, Rachel, Susannah and Amber, had settled on a small stand of bleachers placed outside the arena fence. Snacks had been distributed and everybody seemed to be enjoying the morning. Wyatt stood near the chute, and even from a distance Garrett could sense his yearning to be a part of the action instead of a spectator. The summer’s forced vacation had been hard on his spirit.

Dave brought three cowboys over to the chute. “These are some real experienced bull riders,” he said. “Fred, Steve and Tad. Along with Ford, they’re gonna get you situated for each round. Guys, this is Lena, Marcos and Thomas. They’ll be riding our steers today.” He eyed the youngsters. “So who’s first up?”

All three of them raised their hands. Dave gave a big laugh. “Got us three go-getters, here. Thomas, you’re looking fierce this morning. We’ll let you take the first shot.”

Marcos groaned in protest. Garrett put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get your chance. It never hurts to watch the others. You two go stand behind the fence.”

The first steer moved into the chute from the pen and stood quietly enough while Thomas sat down. Ford had promised he’d make sure the kids took a good grip and had the rope wrapped tightly around their gloved hand before he let them go. Tad and Steve climbed down to operate the gate while Garrett and Dylan positioned themselves on either side of the chute. Like rodeo clowns, their role was to help the rider get off as safely as possible.

“Everybody set?” Ford called. Then he asked Thomas, “Ready?”

The boy nodded.

“Go!”

The gate swung open and the steer charged into the arena, bucking hard. Holding on with both hands, Thomas jerked forward, back, forward, back, and then tipped over the right side. Garrett closed in to be sure that the rigging had come loose, as it was supposed to, allowing the boy to fall clear. He landed facedown but quickly scrambled to his feet in the way they’d instructed him, ready to run if the steer came after him. Dylan moved in front of the animal, waving his hat, and it veered off to the left, where Dave held open a gate leading into the pen.

Garrett walked with Thomas to the fence. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He took off his helmet. “I lost my balance.”

“You made a decent start. Keep that chest forward and over the shoulders. Did you have fun?”

The boy’s dirty face split into a wide grin. “Oh, yeah.”

“That’s what counts. Go get a snack and a drink.” Over at the bleachers, Thomas received a hero’s welcome from the spectators, which was probably almost as satisfying as staying on till the whistle.

In the meantime, Marcos had climbed into the chute and was settling on his steer. When Ford yelled, “Go,” the steer roared out of the gate, bell clanking, and went into a spin. After just two bucking turns, Marcos dived to the outside, landing on his hands and knees. He was slow to stand, though, and the steer rounded on him, bent on revenge.

Yelling, “Get up!” Garrett jumped between them, flapping the red bandanna he’d brought for the purpose while Dylan came in from the side. Together, they distracted the animal and sent it toward the exit gate. With the coast clear, Garrett spun around, checking for Marcos, but the boy had disappeared.

Retracing their walk from the barn, Garrett found him at the van, sitting inside with his vest and helmet stuffed in his bag. “I’m ready to go,” he announced.

“Why the hurry?”

Marcos crossed his arms over his chest. “This is boring.”

Garrett clicked his tongue. “One thing I’ve never heard about rough-stock riding is that it’s boring.”

After a pause, Marcos said, “I didn’t make the whistle.”

“Most people don’t on their first ride.”

“It’s nothing like the bucking barrel.”

“No, it’s not. But the only way to get better is to keep trying. If that’s what you want.”

“I’m not sure.” He was quiet for a minute. “They’re bigger than I expected they would be.”

Garrett nodded. “The next ride will be better because you’ll be more prepared. Whether you make it or not is up to you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone rounding the corner of the barn, headed toward them. His chest tightened when he recognized Rachel.

“I wondered if Marcos is okay,” she said when she reached them. “Is there anything I can do?”

The boy sent Garrett a pleading look.

“He’s fine.” With a hand on her shoulder, he steered her in the direction she’d just come, walking with her. “Just reviewing his ride.”

“I...understand.”

From her tone of voice, he realized she probably did. “We’re okay so far, at least,” he said. “Now we’ll find out what Lena can do.”

Rachel flashed him an angry glance. “You make it sound as if she’s coming up to bat in a softball game. What she’s doing is
dangerous
.” Before he could answer, she picked up her speed, walking away from him for the second time that day.

Another female gave him hell when he reached the arena. “Where have you been?” Lena glared at him from her perch on the fence rails. “I’m ready to ride!”

“Go for it,” he told her, with Rachel’s accusation still ringing in his ears.

Inside the arena, he stood with Dylan while Lena climbed into the chute. “She’s a little thing,” his brother said. “Seems kinda breakable.”

“But she’s strong.” Garrett needed the encouragement himself. “And she’s the best rider we have, except for Nate.” Of course, even experienced riders could get hurt.

“Everybody set?” Ford yelled. “Ready, Lena?”

Garrett took a deep breath.

“Go!”

Rearing and bucking, the animal danced across the dirt, jerking Lena forward and back, a rag doll tied to the top of that big old steer. But with her chin tucked, she kept her seat glued to the animal’s spine, her legs long on his sides. As the ride went on, she acquired more control, deliberately moving with the motion instead of simply reacting to it. Dave blew the whistle while Garrett was still waiting for her to fall off.

With the instincts of a seasoned cowboy, Lena loosened her grip, threw her leg over and slid to the ground, landing on her feet and then hustling out of the way.

Cheers erupted from the spectators and the men in the chute. Garrett made sure the steer had reached the exit before approaching the grinning girl. “Fantastic!” he yelled, slapping her hands as she held them over her head. “Way to go!”