Chapter 39

That night, Cole got choked up during the national anthem.

He sat in the middle of the arena at the end of a row of horses—dignitaries and personnel introduced during the grand entry—his cowboy hat pressed to his heart, with Shawnee on one side of him and Beni on the other. The soaring notes of the anthem floated up and away, into the azure sky, and as the rodeo queen loped around the end of the arena, the setting sun caught the rippling American flag and set it aglow.

Cole’s throat knotted so tight it nearly brought tears to his eyes. This. Exactly this. The whole day, beginning to end, had been perfect. An amazing woman, good food, a great kid, and a grandstand full of people here to watch a rodeo produced by his crew.

And this was the end. Last night. Last rodeo. The season would make its official exit with the last bull that left the arena.

He glanced over at Shawnee. Instead of the usual smirk, she flashed a quick, tilted smile, then her gaze immediately dropped to her hand on Salty’s reins. Yeah, she felt it, too. The bittersweet tangle of endings and beginnings. This season might be over, but for the two of them there could be another. And another. And another. Anyone who’d grown up with Ace Pickett was bound to be head-shy, but eventually she would realize how much sense they made together.

He let his gaze slide over to Beni, straight and proud in the saddle, dressed in the Jacobs Livestock uniform right down to miniature blue and white chaps. Cole’s throat tightened another notch. Give it ten years and that could be his little brown-haired girl, her chin in the air as she mouthed the words to “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Lord knows, any child of Shawnee’s would insist on being in the middle of everything.

Cole grinned at the image, then bowed his head as Tyrell recited the Cowboy’s Prayer in a voice that sounded as if God himself were speaking.

“…help us to live our lives in such a manner that when we make that last inevitable ride to the country up there, where the grass grows lush, green, and stirrup high and the water runs cool and clear, You will take us by the hand and tell us our entry fees are paid.”

There was a moment of silence as the final words echoed in the still evening air. Then, with a whoop and a holler, the flag bearers spurred their horses into a gallop and led the riders from the arena. Only Cole and Shawnee stayed put. He no longer had to check that she was in the right position for each horse. She knew them all as well as he did.

Now he looked over because he liked seeing her there.

They hadn’t even bucked the first horse and her hair was already a mess, springing free of the barrette to coil in little hooks around her face, and she was jawing with the cowboys on the back of the chutes as they waited for the first bareback rider to wedge his gloved hand into the rigging.

“Hey, Cody, you gonna spur one to the whistle so I can actually pick you up for a change?”

The cowboy in question rolled his eyes. “I get bucked off one time…and you’ll probably drop me on my head, anyway.”

“Just aimin’ for the one body part I know you can’t break,” Shawnee shot back.

Cole chuckled, then did a double take. Six weeks ago, he would’ve been irritated half to death. Now he just sat back and smiled at how none of them could get the best of her. Damn. There might be hope for his sense of humor yet.

“You gonna tell her how her butt looks in those chaps, Joe?” one of the cowboys yelled.

Joe paused in the midst of adjusting a flank strap to grin and shake his head. He’d learned that lesson the hard way with Violet.

“How ’bout you meet me out back and you can kiss it?” Shawnee yelled in return.

All of the cowboys and a sizable portion of the crowd busted up laughing. The moment fixed in Cole’s brain, like an image in one of those old Polaroid cameras. Shawnee—defined. Bold, brash, and bigger than life. Around them, the air hummed with potential. Significance. This was one of those nights. A time you’d remember, crystal clear, twenty years from now, when you were tipping back a cold one with a few good friends. Or one special woman.

Remember? That was the night…

Then the bareback rider scooted up on his rigging, cocked his free arm and nodded, and there was no more time to think. Thunder Bay took two long, lunging jumps, then swooped left so hard his hooves skidded in the dirt. Cole sucked in a breath as the horse dropped onto his left shoulder, jacking the cowboy up and over the rigging. The horse slid, flailed, then regained his balance. The cowboy wasn’t so lucky. The stumble had thrown him off the left side of the horse, his weight clamping his hand around the rigging. He fought to keep his feet under him while the bronc lunged and kicked.

“Go!” Cole shouted.

Shawnee was already two strides ahead of him, her loop sailing through the air to settle neatly around Thunder Bay’s neck. She dallied up short, leaving only a few feet of rope between Salty and the bronc, and reined in hard. The bronc grunted and threw its head, but Shawnee turned in a tight circle to stay out of range of his lashing front hooves as Cole tripped the flank strap. Then he leaned across and grabbed the cowboy by the back of his protective vest, hauling him up high enough to release the bind on his glove. His hand came free and he dropped to his knees in the dirt.

Shawnee kicked up and herded the bronc safely away, toward the catch pen. Cole followed. Behind them, Cruz and Joe had sprinted out to help the cowboy. They hoisted him up with a hand under each elbow, then he waved them off and stumbled to the chutes under his own steam.

The crowd roared. Drama over. No casualties.

As Thunder Bay ducked into the exit gate, Shawnee tossed the tail of her rope in the air and let the bronc take it with him to the stripping chute. She swung close to the chutes to grab a replacement from one of the Leses, then took up her position for the next ride. No big deal. Just a day in the life. Cruz slapped her thigh as he passed. Joe offered a fist bump.

Cole gave her a brisk, approving nod.

But as they rode side-by-side out of the arena and around the back of the chutes to Cole’s trailer, he leaned over, snagged an arm around her shoulders, and planted a big, smacking kiss on her cheek. “You are amazing.”

“Ew,” Beni said, as he passed going the other direction, to chase team roping and steer wrestling stock out of the arena.

Shawnee…blushed? “Stop sexually harassing the help. People are gonna talk.”

“Let ’em,” Cole said, and kissed her again.

The rest of the performance was a highlight reel filmed in high definition—image after image etched into Cole’s brain—until that final, inevitable eight-second whistle blew. Cole wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not quite yet. Instead of making a beeline for his trailer, he crossed his arms over the saddle horn and took it all in.

Fans jostled toward the exits, clutching the hands of sticky, tired children. The bright-yellow running lights of the pickups and horse trailers shone as they rolled out of the parking lot and away, one more year of hopes and dreams either achieved or dashed on the cold, hard rocks of the rodeo trail. Behind the chutes, cowboys hitched bronc saddles or gear bags over shoulders thrown back in triumph or slumped in defeat.

Shawnee reined her horse up next to his and mimicked his posture. “Well. I guess that’s that. But don’t expect me to sing about it.”

Cole gave her a blank look, his brain too busy screaming, Now! Ask her now, when she gave you the perfect opening.

“It isn’t over ’til…” She made a gesture toward herself.

“I don’t…”

She rolled her eyes. “Forget it. You already killed the punch line.”

Oh. Now he got it. He frowned. “You’re not fat.”

“Bless your heart.” She patted his arm. “At least you didn’t say, ‘You’re no lady.’”

“I would never—oh, you’re joking again.” Geezus. This was bad. Even for him. It was the nerves, tying him into knots. And now he’d started doubting himself. Wondering why a funny, sarcastic woman like Shawnee would ever choose a man who literally couldn’t take a joke.

Before he could fight off the attack of insecurity, Beni trotted over to join them. “Thank you for letting me ride your horse. He’s awesome.”

Shawnee smiled. “You’re welcome. I think so, too.”

“You’re almost as cool as my mommy. Or Tori, if you had your own jet. And Uncle Cole likes kissing you.” He heaved a disappointed sigh. “I wish you could have babies, so you could get married and I could ride Roy all the time.”

Shawnee sucked in a breath that was like a spear through Cole’s gut.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Of course she can have babies.”

Beni shrunk from Cole’s sharp words. “But Mommy said she had an operation—”

Cole turned on Shawnee, icy shock radiating from the point of impact and frosting his words. “What does he mean? What kind of operation?”

“A hysterectomy,” she said flatly. “My second year of college, when Violet and I were roommates.”

“A hyst—” He couldn’t even force out the rest of the word, as the icy burn crawled up into his chest, sending needle-sharp spikes into his heart.

Her gaze remained level, her voice stony. “I had a cyst that destroyed my right ovary, so I told them to go ahead and take the left one while they were at it.”

Just. . . take it. Like it was a hangnail. A minor inconvenience. Even as a part of his mind warned that he was being irrational, that he had no right, that she’d tried to tell him and he’d chosen not to listen, he heard himself saying, “You just decided, That’s it. I’m never having kids? You didn’t stop to consider that someday you might meet someone who wanted a family?”

“I considered a lot of things.” She bared her teeth, snarling back at him. “Like how after all the chemo and crap, my baby-making odds were in the crapper with two ovaries. And how I should probably consider minimizing the number of body parts that might try to kill me someday. And that I shouldn’t pass these lousy genes down to some poor kid, anyway. And if you’re wondering about these…” She hefted one boob in her palm. “Yes, I’ve considered getting rid of them, too, given the chances it’s gonna happen anyway. But I’m afraid the scar tissue would screw up my roping. Because yeah, I’m that obsessed. Just like my old man. So consider yourself lucky that you dodged this bullet.”

Cole and Beni sat in stunned silence as she kicked Salty up and trotted out the gate and into the shadows beyond the arena lights. Cole was vaguely aware that he should follow and say…or do…or…something. But he was shaking. Tremors that started deep, deep in his core, the fissures radiating through his soul. That picture he’d been carrying around in his head—the little girl with Shawnee’s grin and her wild hair—curled up like an old, fragile newspaper clipping and crumbled into dust. The shock was so intense it was as if a real person had died.

“I didn’t mean to make her mad. I heard Mama and Aunt Lily talking…” Beni sniffed, tears welling in his eyes. “Mama keeps telling me I shouldn’t repeat everything the grown-ups say. I have to tell Shawnee I’m sorry.”

Beni clucked at Roy and went after her. Cole couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Five minutes ago his world had been a shiny, happy place, full of hopes and plans and dreams, and now…

Now it had gone dark and empty, as suddenly as if someone had killed the arena lights. He could still hear the voices of the cowboys, feel Hammer shifting impatiently beneath him and tugging at the reins, but it was all drowned out by memories. Distant, muffled screams inside his head.

No! No! No! You’re lying. They can’t be gone.

But his family had been taken from him then. And the one he’d manufactured in his head had been ripped away now. He had to go after her. Didn’t he? But then…what? He had no list. No rehearsed dialogue for this scene. If he went to her now, he would only make it worse.

If worse was even possible.