Rodeo Reunion Read online

  “You need an Irene. She was as happy as I was traveling the circuit with me while I was a rodeo chaplain. The kids were grown and gone and we found a fulfilling way to spend our twilight years.”

  Over two years had passed since Irene lost her fight with cancer, and Frank had recently remarried, but the pain of losing his first wife was stamped in every wrinkle lining his face, every silver streak in his hair.

  “How’s Meredith?”

  “Keeping me happy. Don’t change the subject. Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

  “Let’s not keep Meredith waiting. We’re still on for lunch, right?”

  “One of the many things I love about Meredith is her patience.”

  There was no sense trying to hide anything from Frank. He’d even told Frank about his inheritance and discovering who his father was. Slade’s shoulders slumped. “I found out I have a sister.”

  Frank blew out a big breath. “Kind of knocked you for a loop?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about her, and I don’t know what to do.” Slade leaned his elbows over the fence’s top rail. “It’s driving me nuts. Yesterday I went to Aubrey, where she lives.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “I didn’t even see her. I guess I just kind of wanted to feel it out. See if I just happened to run into her, but I didn’t.”

  “Maybe you should call her.”

  “And say what? I’m your younger brother from an affair your father had on your mother.”

  “Hmm.” Frank stroked his silver beard. “That complicates things.”

  “I did run into a friend’s wife there. Dylan and I were best friends until the fifth grade, when I moved to my grandparents’ house, and we kept in touch for a long while. He called weekly after my baseball injury and was a big encouragement until I went on the circuit and eventually lost touch with him. Seeing his wife got me thinking about him again.”

  “So Dylan grew up with you in Garland. Where’s your sister from?”

  “From what I’ve found on the internet, Ponder originally, and Fort Worth for a while.”

  “Kind of odd that your sister and your friend ended up in the same tiny town.”

  “I even met a local real estate agent.” A lump formed in Slade’s throat. “It’s like God’s trying to lead me there or something.”

  “Ever thought of giving up the circuit?” Frank shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand. “You could preach at a church.”

  “I’ve thought about it.” Slade shrugged. “But I don’t want to let these guys down. I mean, let’s face it—some of these guys will never darken the door of a church, but they’ll come hear a sermon at a rodeo arena.”

  “Find somebody to replace you, like I did.”

  “But you didn’t quit. You retired and you probably wouldn’t have if Irene hadn’t been sick.” He couldn’t turn his back on his rodeo ministry. Or on the cowboys.

  “The circuit’s a worthy ministry.” Frank scratched his chin. “But if your heart’s not in it anymore, are you fulfilling God’s call?”

  “Good question.” Yet just this morning, three cowboys had come forward to accept Christ. “But my work here is still bearing fruit.”

  “True. But someone else with a fresh fire for it might bear more fruit. Maybe you need a sabbatical.”

  Sabbatical? That might help. Visit Aubrey. Slow down. Think. Regroup. Refuel. Decide whether to contact his sister. Or not. Maybe settling down would wear thin after a while and he’d come back with a fresh fire in his belly for his ministry.

  The breeze stirred the manure scent. He wouldn’t miss that.

  “You might be onto something.” But who could take over the ministry? “Know any preachers dying to take on the circuit?”

  “Boy howdy, sometimes seeing God work makes my head spin.” Frank clapped him on the back. “Meredith and I aren’t here by accident. We’re testing out the motor home we bought recently. Planning to do some traveling and even talked about taking up chaplaining again.”

  God had known he needed a break—even before Slade had. His chest tightened. Was it just a break or could God be nudging him to make a change?

  “Why the third degree if you want back in?”

  “I wanted to see where you stood on the subject. Under no circumstances would I want you feeling like I moved you out. It’s your decision.” Frank put an arm around Slade’s shoulders and they walked toward Meredith. “Take three months off, then see how you feel. If you want to come back, Meredith and I can work another area. Texas is a big state with plenty of rodeos and cowboy souls for the both of us.”

  Just like that—Slade was free.

  He could rent a house in Aubrey. Catch up with Dylan. Decide what to do about his sister. See what it felt like to settle somewhere. See what came next.

  * * *

  In the first weeks after Dylan’s death, the photo album had become a daily ritual for Raquel. As Hunter had gotten older, they’d pored over the family pictures at least once a week. Slowly, it had become a monthly thing. And slowly, she was losing Dylan.

  Hunter leaned against her on the couch, fresh from his bath, the scent of lime shampoo clinging to him. Warm and cuddly in his pajamas with logs crackling in the fireplace.

  “I can’t really remember him anymore.” Hunter peered at a picture of Dylan holding him when he was an infant.

  “I know, sweetie. You were so young when we lost him—only four.” Her eyes misted.

  She’d thought following their dream of living in Aubrey would make her feel closer to Dylan. But Dylan had never lived in this house with them. He had sat on this couch with them and his woodsy cologne had once been captured in the cushions. But not anymore.

  “Tell me about the picture.”

  It had always been Hunter’s favorite picture and he had a copy in his room. Though she’d told him the story countless times before, it was their way of holding on to Dylan. “You were only a few weeks old. We still lived in Garland then and I woke up to a quiet house.”

  “And that was weird, cuz I usually woke you up crying.” Hunter snuggled closer.

  “I found y’all on the back deck of our apartment. Daddy was sitting crisscross-style with you cradled in his arms.” His brown eyes focused solely on their son.

  “And he was so focused on me he didn’t even see you.”

  “I hurried to get my camera—” she kissed the top of his head “—snapped the picture through the glass patio door and watched y’all for several minutes before Daddy realized I was there.”

  “He finally looked up, you opened the door, and he said he wanted you to get some extra sleep cuz you deserved it for giving him such a perfect son.”

  “That’s right.” Her eyes singed. She glanced at the clock. Getting late. Hating to interrupt such precious memories, she gave him a good squeeze. “It’s bedtime.”

  “Aw, Mom. I like sitting here with you and we’re not done with the album.”

  “I like sitting here with you, too. But you have school tomorrow. Tell you what—tomorrow night we’ll do it again.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” She kissed his cheek, thankful he was still young enough he didn’t shrug off her affection just yet.

  What would she do when he got older and didn’t want to cuddle? When he grew up? When he got married and left her alone?

  * * *

  The whirring furnace knocked the chill off in the rental house. Second day of March and Slade had three months to figure out what came next.

  “You’re sure the landlord is okay with a dog as large as Blizzard in the house?” Slade gestured to the huge white fluff-ball inspecting every nook and cranny.

  “He okayed pets.” Star, Aubrey’s Realtor, grinned. “And didn’t mention size restrictions.”

  “Blizzard will be either outside or in the laundry room when I’m gone.”

  “So does that mean you like it?”

  He scanned the house. Sheetrock walls painted taupe wit
h hardwood floors and simple furnishings. No bells or whistles. Perfect for him.

  “When can I move in?”

  “Today.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Great.” Star went over the deposit, how much he needed to pay up front, when the rent was due and the exit policy.

  “I plan to stay through May. Can I just pay it all in advance?”

  “Sure, if that’s how you want to handle it.” She tapped numbers on her tablet and gave him the grand total. “So my husband recognized your name. He said you were a major-league pitcher for the Rangers and you were really good.”

  “I wasn’t bad.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Until I tore my rotator cuff in the first season. My first surgery was a success, but against my doctor’s orders, I rushed my recovery and tore it again during off-season practice.”

  He’d sacrificed everything to follow his grandfather’s footsteps into baseball. His laser focus had gotten him a baseball scholarship to college and then a ticket to the major leagues. But he’d been so focused he’d never even had a girlfriend in high school.

  So ten years later, here he was with just Blizzard to keep him company. No wife, no family except his grandparents and a sister who didn’t even know about him.

  He signed the check and handed it to Star in exchange for the keys. “I hope my neighbors won’t have any problem with Blizzard.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have any problem with the neighbors.” Her phone rang. “I need to get this. Let me know if you need anything.” She waved and backed out the front door.

  Hmm. Did the neighbors have a bigger, noisier dog than Blizzard? Or maybe fifteen dogs?

  “Woof.” Blizzard’s bark echoed through the sparsely furnished house.

  “Want outside, boy?”

  The dog’s ears perked up and his bushy tail thumped.

  “How about a walk?”

  “Woof.” The huge dog quivered with anticipation.

  And people thought dogs didn’t understand. He clipped the leash onto Blizzard’s collar and headed for the front door.

  * * *

  “Mom.” Hunter got two syllables out of the word. “Throw it right.”

  “I’m trying, sweetie.” Raquel concentrated on the spot where the seven-year-old’s bat would swing and threw the baseball with all her strength. Her shoulder protested. She’d probably thrown it out of socket.

  The pitch looked good. Right height, but it sailed two feet out of Hunter’s reach.

  “Mom.” Two syllables again.

  “I’m doing the best I can.” She massaged her shoulder. “I never pitched. Maybe Uncle Brant can help.”

  “He’s on tour, and besides, he never pitched either.” Hunter poked at the piece of two-by-four—their makeshift home plate—with his bat. His shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t do it anyway.”

  “Don’t say that.” His defeat squeezed her heart. “You can do anything you set your mind to.” With Hunter’s first baseball practice next week, she’d wanted to encourage him. Instead she’d discouraged him with her lousy pitching skills.

  Why, why, why did Dylan have to die? Hunter needed his father. If Dylan had been here, Hunter would already have been hitting home runs. But Dylan wasn’t here. And Raquel had to do this alone.

  “I wish my dad was here.”

  Her vision blurred. “Me too, sweetie.” But all Raquel had left of Dylan was his seven-year-old spitting image waiting for a decent pitch. And Hunter would never really know his father, no matter how hard she tried.

  “Surely there’s somebody in this town who can pitch a baseball. We’ll find somebody.”

  Like Slade Walker. He’d pitched for a short time in the major leagues. What were the odds of running into him a few weeks ago? But he’d probably been only passing through.

  “Who’s that man?” Hunter looked past her.

  Raquel turned.

  A man and a large white dog stepped through the line of dormant crepe myrtle trees lining her property.

  She stiffened, ready to protect her cub, but recognized the familiar smile.

  “Did I hear something about needing a pitcher?”

  “Mr. Walker?” As if she’d wished him into existence.

  Chapter 2

  “The one and only.” Slade grinned.

  And his grin revved her heart. She clasped a hand to her chest. Maybe it was the surprise.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was taking Blizzard for a walk.” He stopped beside her and patted the dog’s head. The dog settled in at his feet. “And I heard some baseball going on.”

  “Can I pet your dog?” Hunter cut around her to get to the dog.

  “Sure, he’s a big softy.”

  “Hi, Blizzard. My name’s Hunter. What kind of dog are you?”

  “Great Pyrenees. They’re bred to protect sheep.” Slade knelt beside the pair and scratched the big white head. “I knew from the size of his feet when he was a pup he’d end up being too big to be called Snowball.”

  “You have sheep?” Hunter giggled as the dog licked his cheek.

  “No. But I used to work with a lot of horses, and Blizzard’s breed is good with livestock, too.”

  “You live here?”

  “Just rented the place next door.” Slade glanced at their ranch-style house. “You live here?”

  “We moved here last May.” Hunter grinned as Blizzard crouched in his “wanna play” stance.

  Next door? Raquel had seen vehicles and a camper earlier but hadn’t had time to be neighborly. She’d never dreamed Slade would move in.

  Slade seemed to remember Raquel was there and stood.

  “Mr. Walker just happens to be a pitcher, Hunter. A major-league pitcher. Remember that autograph I gave you?”

  “Really?” Hunter’s eyes grew wide.

  “That was a long time ago.” Slade rubbed his shoulder.

  “Can you pitch for me?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Walker doesn’t have time right now.”

  “It’s not a problem. It’s what I came over for. Unless you think Dylan might have a problem with me helping Hunter.”

  Her gaze flew to Hunter, but he’d forgotten about baseball for the moment and was rolling and giggling in the grass with Blizzard.

  “Dylan died three years ago,” she whispered.

  “Oh.” Slade swallowed hard. His eyes reddened. “I’m sorry. I had no clue.”

  “I tried to contact all of his friends.” Something went soft inside her and tears burned the backs of her eyes. After three years sometimes it still hit her as if she’d just lost him. Especially when she had to tell someone new. And especially when that someone had known and loved Dylan, too.

  She blinked hard. “Hunter, baseball. I’m sure Mr. Walker doesn’t have all night.”

  Hunter jumped up, ran toward home plate and picked up his bat. Blizzard lay content in the grass where Hunter had left him.

  “Come here, Blizzard.” Raquel clicked her tongue. The large dog followed obediently and she settled on the porch steps. Blizzard rested at her feet and she scratched around his furry ears.

  Why hadn’t she thought to get Hunter a dog? While they’d lived in Garland, their apartment wouldn’t allow pets. But she’d fulfilled her and Dylan’s dream by moving to the country. Ten months after the move and she hadn’t even thought of getting a dog.

  “Choke up on the bat. Set your feet apart a little wider and line ’em up with the plate.”

  Hunter squeezed the bat, adjusted his stance and looked even more awkward.

  “Here, let me help you.” Slade jogged over to Hunter. “Choke up means move your hands higher on the bat.” He adjusted Hunter’s grip, then moved to the other side of the plate and showed Hunter the proper stance. Hunter mirrored Slade’s posture, and all his awkward angles were gone.

  “That’s so much better.” Raquel clapped her hands. “You look like a pro.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Walker.” Hunter’s wide grin p
ut a smile in her heart.

  “Just call me Slade.” Slade returned to the pitcher’s mound—another piece of wood. “Ready?”

  Hunter nodded and Slade fired the ball—the perfect pitch. Hunter swung but didn’t connect. His shoulders slumped again.

  “Swing your bat level. You swung under and then up. Practice before I pitch again.”

  The bat made an undercut and then veered up again.

  Slade jogged over to him. Standing behind her son, he clasped the bat and swung in a straight line. “Like that. Now do it without me.”

  Hunter swung the bat in a straight line.

  “That’s it—keep it level just like that.” Slade jogged back to the mound and lobbed a pitch.

  Raquel’s fists curled and her nails dug into her palms.

  Hunter swung. Thwack. The ball sailed into the air.

  “Woo-hoo!” Raquel jumped to her feet, clapping.

  Red splotches stained Hunter’s cheeks, but his grin was a mile wide.

  “That’s it. You’ve got it.”

  “Can you pitch me some more?”

  Raquel checked her watch. “Homework time. Besides, Slade probably needs to get going.”

  “Aw, Mom.”

  “Don’t argue with your mom.” Slade patted the boy’s shoulder. “And appreciate her for trying to pitch for you. At least she tried.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hunter shot her a sheepish grin as he climbed the porch steps. “Thanks, Mom.”

  The screen door slapped closed and Slade sat down beside her. “He’s a great kid.”

  “Thanks. We do pretty good most of the time.” Until he’d signed up for baseball. “I never played softball, so I’m not much help. But Hunter loved baseball in Garland, so I thought signing up here would get him out of his shell and help him make some friends.”

  “Why did y’all move here?” Slade scratched Blizzard’s ears.

  She dug her fingers into the soft white fur along the dog’s side. “A child changes things. After an incident at school, Dylan and I decided we wanted to raise Hunter in the country. But then Dylan died.” And her parents tried to convince her to move home. But she’d wanted Hunter to feel secure and know they could make it on their own. “I decided I should fulfill Dylan’s dream.”