“Not a chance,” he said. “Just wonderin’, that’s all.”
Jo Lena wished, for the hundredth time, that she’d never stayed for breakfast at the Rocking M.
“Can Monte come and see my room?” Lily Rae asked, as she crawled into her bed. “He can play with my Breyers horses if he wants.”
If she could have ten minutes without hearing Monte’s name, she’d be happy. It didn’t even have to be ten minutes of silence.
“That’s sweet of you, Lily Rae,” she said. “Now, let’s read a story and you get to sleep. Tomorrow’s Sunday school.”
Lily Rae sat right straight up again.
“Is Monte coming to Sunday school?”
“I doubt it, sugar.”
“Why not?”
Because Monte refuses to go to church at all.
“Well,” she hedged, “Monte’s in pretty bad shape, don’t you remember? He can hardly walk, he hurts so much.”
It hurt her, too, to think how much pain he was in. Even if she couldn’t bear to hear his name one more time today.
“Monte could pray at Sunday school for God to make him all better.”
“True,” Jo Lena said. “But we can’t decide for him what he should do. Monte has to decide for himself.”
“We can help him, Mommy. We can teach him manners and bring him to Sunday school.”
She had to decide what to do about Lily Rae’s total infatuation with Monte McMahan, for heaven’s sake. Like mother like daughter—it must be a female thing. What a mess!
“And we’ll pray for him at Sunday school!”
Now the child was wringing her hands, she was so excited by this new thought. She had been in a total fit ever since they left the Rocking M and Monte behind.
“Lovey, stop talking now, lie back on your pillow and listen,” she said. “I’m going to read to you now.”
It took two stories for Lily Rae to relax and two more for sleep to come. Jo Lena was totally exhausted by the time she bent over to kiss the fragrant little face once more.
In spite of being so tired she could drop, she had made her routine last call of the day to the senior citizens’ home to check on her father. Now, at last, she could relax. With a last glance in at Lily Rae, she eased the screen door open and went out onto her porch. She leaned against a post and looked up at the stars.
The way she and Monte used to do. Looking at the stars had reminded her of him every single night for six long years. If she hadn’t had Lily Rae, she guessed she would’ve gone crazy.
No, she wouldn’t have. Because God was the One who’d kept her sane.
And given her peace.
Now here was Monte come back, stirring up all the old feelings again.
Except that she wasn’t going to let him do that. No matter how silly Lily Rae was about him.
Chapter Three
Sunday night Monte stretched out his aching body flat in the sweet-smelling grass and stared up at the stars. It was weird. It almost felt as if he hadn’t seen the night sky since he left home all those years ago. When he used to look at it with Jo Lena.
He slammed his mind shut against the memories. He wasn’t going to think about her, much less be around her anymore. He’d already enjoyed more of that than he could stand—especially with little Miss Mouth, Lily Rae, putting his personal life right out there on the breakfast table for everyone to see.
No, the reason being outside after dark was strange territory to him was the road. With all those weeks and years on the road, at night he was either riding in some indoor arena, falling exhausted into a motel bed, or driving or flying to the next place, readying his mind to get on the next bull.
Or else he was just so caught up in going down the road that he never even thought to look up.
The river murmured along over its rocky bed a few yards away. Monte listened to it and let his gaze wander from star to star.
He himself had been a star. The commentators had talked about him on ESPN, the announcers had loved him and the crowds had chanted his name as soon as he’d climbed up the wall of the chute and started getting ready.
Monte! Monte! Monte!
Now he was nothing but a has-been.
A broken-up, broken-down has-been.
His only comfort was he wasn’t broke. He’d been shrewd with his winnings, unlike ninety percent of the other guys on the circuit and he wouldn’t have to ask his brothers for anything. Plus he had invested his inheritance from Grandpa Clint.
He grinned. Delia had always said Monte was wild in every way but with his money.
The Big Dipper blurred suddenly and he closed his eyes. Once again, he listened to the river run.
It was good to be on the Rocking M again, it was great to see his family again. But all of them, at different times, had been in and out of the big house, talking to him, asking him questions, expecting him to talk to them.
He had to have some space. He had to have some silence. He had to have a chance to get a grip on himself.
His life was gone. Life as he knew it, barring a miracle, could never come again.
Ever since he’d barely been a grown man he’d been a wild, wandering bull rider, living on the challenge, living on the danger, living on the satisfaction of staying on one of the crafty beasts until the whistle blew. The thrill of beating a bull somehow felt, every time, like one more little bit of revenge against the ugly, vicious one that had gored Scotty Speirs to death.
That had been a night with no stars, even though they’d been riding in an outdoor arena. That had been the night God turned his back on Monte. Monte had done the same to Him, and even Dad couldn’t make him turn back again.
The thought of his father and his old friend stirred up grief and guilt that made his mind as bruised and sore as his body. It was too much to deal with tonight. He couldn’t wait any longer for the oblivion of sleep.
Slowly, carefully, he rolled over onto his elbow and pushed with the other hand against the ground until he was in a sitting position. Laboriously, he inched on up to his feet and started toward the bunkhouse.
Good thing he’d told his mother he was going straight to bed. After the fit she’d thrown because he wasn’t sleeping in the main house, she’d never get through scolding him for exposing his battered muscles to the dew-damp ground.
Which had been a major mistake.
Well, just as long as Bobbie Ann didn’t see him right now, he was okay. Just as long as she and his sisters let him have a little peace, he might be able to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life.
They did let him sleep until he woke up on his own.
But they must’ve been peeping in at him every fifteen minutes because he had no more than pulled himself up and out of that last dream of being stomped by a bull and staggered out of bed to the bathroom than he heard the door to the bunkhouse bang open.
It was Delia and LydaAnn, judging by the giggling voices.
He did not feel one bit like giggling. Or listening to it, either.
“Throw me my jeans,” he yelled through the closed door. “Looks like y’all could at least let a man get his pants on before invadin’ his privacy.”
“Looks like you could at least be pleasant to the women who brought your breakfast,” LydaAnn yelled back.
He