Megan's Hero (The Callahans of Texas Book #3): A Novel (24 page)

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed it.”

“I hope you feel the same way after you put the rest of the furniture together.”

Will laughed. “So do I. It’s a good thing a couple of pieces will be delayed a few weeks.” He gently turned her toward the door. “I’d better head on home. I have an early get-up in the morning.”

“Earlier than usual?”

“No, but five o’clock is early no matter how you look at it.” He followed her into the kitchen.

His cell phone rang before they reached the back door, and he fished it out of the case on his belt. “Hi, Dad.” Megan couldn’t hear what his father was telling him, but Will’s eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled. Big time. “No kiddin’. Yes, sir, that is good news.” He met Megan’s gaze. “I’ll tell her.” He ended the call and put the phone away.

“Tell me what?”

“Josh took up writing while he was in prison and tried his hand at suspense crime novels.”

“He has plenty of experience to draw from, and he was always good at telling tales. I think he embellished them a lot.” She paused, studying his wide grin. “Did he publish something?”

“Yes, ma’am. He must be pretty good because he has a contract with a big New York publisher. He goes by Josh Riley.”

“Riley is his middle name.”

“They’re using his criminal past and prison time as a marketing ploy.”

“Did he make the thief the hero?”

Will laughed. “He did. His second book comes out in August. According to his website—”

“He has a website?” She’d never thought to Google him. “Did Peters get all this from his website?” If so, her cousin could be selling nonexistent books to unsuspecting readers.

“No. I don’t know where Peters got the lead, but he checked the publisher’s website and found Josh’s books online. He even picked one up at Hastings. He’d only read the first chapter, but he said it was good. According to Josh’s website, he has a contract for another series.”

“Don’t tell me, this one is about a burglar.” Josh had turned his life around. Amazing. She was happy for him.

“That’s right. The next series he’s planning is about . . . wait for it . . .” She grinned as he flung out his arm like the ringmaster at a circus announcing the acrobats in the third ring.

“Safecracking,” they said in unison and burst into laughter.

“But he failed at that.” Megan leaned against the counter. “He must have found his expert while he was in the calaboose.”

“You’ve been hanging around Emily too long.”

“I’m typing up some documents from the early days of the town, thus calaboose. I think it’s a cool word.” She smiled. “So Josh left the criminal life behind him, except as fodder for his writing. What about Riley?”

“His record is clean. Been working at Whiteside for four years. Doesn’t even have a traffic ticket. He bowls on a team every week and goes to church most every Sunday.”

“Church?” She didn’t think anyone else in her family had ever set foot in a church. “How long has he been going?”

“He started about six months after Josh went to prison. We all deal with guilt sometimes, but I expect he had a truckload of it. He checks on your mom now and then, but Peters thinks he basically stays away from her.”

“He should. She’s toxic.” It was an awful thing to say, but it was the truth.

“Oh, I almost forgot the other good thing. Whiteside changed Riley’s job. He’s working in the mill now, so he doesn’t need Josh to help him. They won’t be coming up this way anymore.”

“That’s a relief. Even if they have straightened out their lives, I don’t want to see them.” Surprisingly, she didn’t feel as adamantly about it as she had ten minutes ago. Interesting.
Are you doing something, God?

She straightened away from the cabinet and stepped closer to him, resting her hands on his chest. “You should go. You’ve had a long day.”

“No longer than usual, but shopping is tiring.” He put his arms around her. “How do women spend all day at it and not get worn out?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been much for trooping around a mall. I’d rather run in and get what I want and be done with it.”

“My kind of woman.” Leaning down, he gave her a toe-curling kiss. He raised his head and searched her eyes. “In so many ways.” Releasing her, he pushed open the screen door. “Good night, sugar. Sweet dreams.”

She stepped out onto the porch as he walked to the Caddie. He pulled away with a little beep of the horn, and she waved until the car disappeared around the house. Sitting in the rocking chair, she watched the cows gather up their calves and settle down for the night. One cow looked around the pasture and bawled. A moment later a little calf scampered from behind some low-lying pale green mesquites and raced across the darker grass to meet her.

The light breeze turned the wheel on the windmill at a gentle pace, pumping more water into the tank.
Creak,
swoosh.
Creak, swoosh.
The sunset blazed in a riot of pink and gold, backlighting the dark silhouette of a distant mesa on the gently rolling horizon. A mockingbird landed on top of the barn, serenading her with a twilight song.

Megan touched her lips, remembering Will’s kiss, thinking of the man. The wonderful, tender, stubborn, loving, sometimes bossy man. As she gazed out across the wide open land, so different from what she’d known all her life, peace filled her soul.

And she dared to dream, even to hope.

Six days later, on July 4th, Megan joined the Callahans for the Ranch Rodeo at the county fairgrounds. Teams of working cowboys from ranches in the county and surrounding areas competed in five events that reflected the work they did every day on the ranch.

Will, Nate, Buster, and Ollie made up the Callahan Ranch team. They had won the cattle sorting event with Will and his horse Cecil cutting yearlings—year old calves—out of a herd and driving them across a line. The other team members kept them from rejoining the herd, which wasn’t always easy. Will couldn’t simply pick one at random. Each calf was numbered, and the announcer called specific ones to be cut from the herd. They won by sorting out the most calves in the specified time.

They came in second in the mugging competition. Ollie roped the yearling, which Dub said probably weighed close to a thousand pounds. Then the rest of the team grabbed hold of the calf however they could and threw it on its side, tying three feet together so it couldn’t get away. They were ranked according to the time it took to complete the task.

“We use this to immobilize an animal if we need to give it medication or treat a wound,” explained Dub. “The cowboys have to be strong, experienced, and work well as a team.” Which the Callahan Ranch men did.

Not everyone was as successful. One roper missed the calf. Another team got the calf down but didn’t get its feet tied before it managed to wiggle up and run away.

“This next event is the most fun,” Jenna said, shifting Zach on her lap so she could see around his cowboy hat. He was cute as could be, all decked out in hat, boots, jeans, and a western shirt that matched his daddy’s. Except after wrestling cattle around, Nate’s shirt was a lot dirtier. “They have to milk a wild cow.”

“Do they do that on the ranch?” Megan glanced at her, but her gaze drifted back to Will, who was standing below them, waiting for the event to start. He looked up at her and grinned, holding up a long-necked bottle. “Looks like Will gets to do the milking.”

Jenna nodded. “He can run the fastest. Yes, they milk them on the ranch sometimes. Sometimes a mama cow rejects her calf or has an infection, or the baby can’t figure out how to nurse. The guys have to milk her or another cow so the baby has something to eat. You noticed I said that the guys do it. Sometimes I feed the baby, but I’m not big enough to help hold the cow.”

“The cows don’t like it,” added Sue. “They don’t like it here, either. They’re big, stubborn, and uncooperative beef cows, not docile dairy cows. Which makes for some fun.”

Megan thought it sounded dangerous, but the Callahans didn’t seem concerned, so she kept her worries to herself. Three months ago if anyone had told her she’d be spending Independence Day at a rodeo and wearing a cowboy hat, on loan from Jenna, she would have told them they were nuts. But here she was having a great time, learning some things about ranching, and admiring her man and his expertise. In her uneducated, totally biased opinion, he was the best cowboy out there. Definitely the most handsome.

All five teams lined up, each with one cowboy mounted and the rest waiting behind the starting line. The cows were turned into the arena, and the riders took off after them. All five riders roped their chosen animal and brought her back across the starting line. Which wasn’t particularly easy.

The second Ollie brought theirs across the line, the team jumped into action. Ollie’s horse backed up in an effort to keep the rope taut, but the cow turned and he had to move too. Nate grabbed her tail and hung on, digging his heels in the dirt. Buster, the heaviest guy on their team, threw his arms around her neck and hung on. She kept moving for about ten feet, dragging them all, as Will ran alongside her.

“Milk her, boy,” roared Dub. “It don’t hurt to get dirty.” He grinned and winked at Sue.

By then, Nate was sitting on his backside, feet planted, and still hanging on to the protesting cow’s tail. Laughing, Buster still hung onto her head. Bending down, Will squirted some milk into the bottle. He took off running toward the finish line—and it turned into a foot race with another cowboy.

The Callahans and the ranch hands’ wives jumped to their feet, hollering their encouragement. Megan stood too, with a little tug up from Emily, and hollered, “Run, Will!”

He sped up and sprinted across the line two steps ahead of the other cowboy. Handing the bottle to the judge, Will bent over to catch his breath. The judge slowly poured the small amount of milk on the ground, and the Callahan Ranch folks cheered wildly.

“Whew!” Sue clapped and leaned closer to Megan. “For a second, I thought there wasn’t enough milk. You have to be able to pour it out on the ground.”

“That puts us in the lead.” Dub took off his hat and waved it to the Callahan team. After he sat down and put his hat back on, he winked at Megan. “He should have had you cheering him on in high school. He would’ve done even better in track.”

Her cheeks turned a little pink, but she smiled back at him. It was one of the nicest things anybody had ever said to her. “Thanks. What’s next?”

“Bronc riding. It’s the last event. They use a standard working saddle and a bucking horse halter with one rein. No professional rodeo rigging is allowed. Even though we use gentler training methods than they did in the old days, a horse will still buck on occasion. Here, the cowboys need them to buck to give them a good score. Only one man per team participates in this event. Will rides for us.”

Megan didn’t like that idea. She’d seen some saddle bronc riding on television, and it looked a lot more dangerous than trying to milk a big cow, even if she did put up a fuss. “Is he good?”

Dub looked her directly in the eye and nodded. “He’s the best. He’s won this event every time he’s entered. He probably could have turned pro, but he wanted to stay at the ranch.”

That was some comfort, but she’d still worry until his ride was over.
Please, Lord, don’t let anything bad happen to him.
“How long does he have to stay on?”

“Eight seconds, like in a regular rodeo.” Dub swatted at a fly that buzzed by. “Hardly noticeable most of the time, but it can feel like forever on the back of a bucking horse. Worse on the back of a bull.”

“You’ve done bull riding?” Megan didn’t know whether to be impressed or think he might have a screw loose.

“Broncs and bulls both in my wild, younger days. I’m older and wiser now.”

“In other words, he doesn’t bounce like he used to.” Sue patted him on the back. “If he did, he’d probably be right in the thick of it.”

“Naw, I get my kicks in other ways these days.” Dub plucked Zach off Jenna’s lap and gave him a growling hug. “Like playing with this guy.”

Zach giggled and hugged him back. “You’re funny, Papa.”

“Yeah, I know, but looks aren’t everything.”

Zach frowned up at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing. I was just teasin’ you. Are you ready to watch Uncle Will ride the bucking horse?”

“Like the one in the corral last week?”

“Maybe. This one may buck more than Blaze.”

“What?” Megan asked. “A horse with a real horse-sounding name?”

“We bought this one, and the name came with it. It’s an obvious, if tired, choice since she has a white line down her face.” Dub glanced toward the other side of the arena. “I reckon that’s why we don’t give them horse-sounding names too often. Most of them have been used a lot, and all horses are unique.”

“So they should have unique names. I like that.” Megan wondered if it was easier to name a horse than a baby. She still hadn’t come up with a combination of names that she liked.

The microphone squeaked. “Sorry about that, folks,” said the announcer. “Minor technical difficulty, but I think we have it fixed. First up in the bronc riding is Will Callahan of the Callahan Ranch. Will has won this event for the past seven years. Today he’s riding Thunder.”

Sitting on the other side of Emily, Chance groaned softly. “That’s the toughest horse here. Hold on, big brother.”

Emily shushed him. “You’ll scare Megan.” She gave Megan a little hug. “He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be okay.”

Megan hoped she was right. Still, she didn’t miss the fact that every one of the Callahans, including Emily, tensed when Will climbed over the fence. He straddled the chute, resting one foot on the fence railing and the other on a gate rail. Thunder tried to buck right there. Will and Nate, who was assisting him, got the horse settled enough for Will to ease down in the saddle and slide his boots into the stirrups.

Will nodded, and a man pulled open the gate, then scrambled over the fence when Thunder leaped out into the arena.

The horse kicked his hind feet in the air, and Will leaned back, keeping his balance. Thunder jumped, all four feet coming off the ground. Will hung on and made it look easy. Thunder came off the ground again and twisted a half turn. Will slipped sideways.

“Uh-oh,” Chance murmured.

The horse bucked again, and when his hooves hit the ground, he ducked his head low, arched his back, and kicked his back feet. Will flew off, flipped in the air, and landed hard on his back.

Megan gasped and clenched her fists tight. He didn’t move. “Please, God . . . ” she whispered. Emily put her arms around her.

Nate jumped over the fence and ran to Will, kneeling beside him. Chance bolted down the bleacher steps and vaulted over the fence. He sprinted across the arena while keeping an eye on Thunder. A couple of riders herded the horse out a gate and into a pen. When Chance reached his brother, he dropped to his knees and leaned down to talk to him.

Dub followed Chance, moving down the steps as fast as his arthritic knees would let him.

“Why isn’t he moving?” Megan had barely spoken the anguished words when Will waved an arm—feebly, she thought—and a few seconds later Nate and Chance slowly helped him to his feet. Wobbling and with their assistance, he walked out of the arena through a gate someone opened.

Megan desperately wanted to go to him, but she didn’t know how to get to where he was. Dub had reached the steps leading out of the stands, but he stopped and turned around, looking at her. When he nodded, she hurried after him as fast as she dared. She thought Jenna, Sue, and Emily were gathering up their things, but she didn’t look back to confirm it.

“Thank you,” she huffed when she reached Dub.

He took her hand and helped her down the steps. “I figure he’ll want to reassure you that he’s all right.”

“Is he?” She walked as fast as she could, but it must have seemed like a snail’s pace to the tall rancher, especially when he was anxious to see about his son.

“He got his bell rung, that’s for sure.” He guided her along the back side of the arena, past pickups and horse trailers, pens of horses and cattle. She glanced back. Sue, Emily, Jenna, and Zach came around the corner behind them.

“Shouldn’t he go to the hospital?”

“Yes. He’ll do it too. Or wish he had.”

Spoken like a loving father. Megan smiled in spite of her worry.

They found him sitting in the back of one of the two ambulances on hand for such emergencies. Johnny was taking his blood pressure.
Of course
, she thought wryly. Butch was on the phone with the hospital.

Will was pale and grimaced in pain. When he saw her with his dad, a little light flared in his eyes, then the pain took over.

Chance and Nate stood out of the way but were keeping a close eye on what was happening.

“Why aren’t y’all on the way to the hospital?” Dub glared at them all.

“Because your ornery son keeps fighting us on it.” Johnny pressed a button on the portable blood pressure machine.

“Just got a bad headache.” Confusion drifted across Will’s face. Megan had seen the same expression on the trucker’s face the day of the tornado. “Did I hit my head?”

“Load him up,” ordered Dub. “Will, you let Johnny and Butch put you on that blasted gurney, or I’ll haul you up there myself.”

“Just wanna go home.”

“Son, don’t argue with me.”

Megan motioned Johnny aside and took his place. She laid her hand on Will’s arm.

“Hi, sugar.” He leaned toward her—and almost fell over.

Catching him, she rested the side of his head on her shoulder and caressed his face. “Please go to the hospital. Let the doctor make sure you’re all right.”

“You come with me?”

“I’ll go with your dad. We’ll be right behind you.”

“Kiss me and make it better?”

Dub about choked, but she didn’t know if he was laughing or ready to throttle his son.

“Only after you go to the hospital.”

“That’s my girl.” He sighed softly and closed his eyes.

She looked at Johnny, trying not to panic, and whispered, “Did he pass out?”

Johnny shook his head. “Come on, Will, quit takin’ advantage of the situation. Megan doesn’t need to hold you up.”

He helped Will straighten, holding on to him to keep him from falling over again.

Will let the paramedics help him into the ambulance. He laid down on the gurney with a moan. Johnny guided him onto his side to keep him off the knot on the back of his head.