Page 7 of Cowboy's Melody
Teddi
Ihaven’t seriously dated a man in years, not since my first album went platinum. Most guys see me as their meal ticket or their foot in the door. The dates I do go on are arranged between my manager and someone else’s manager. There’s a nasty rumor going around I only date celebrities which is only half true. I go on one or two dates with an attractive, single celebrity and that’s it. There’s always the understanding nothing more will ever come out of the arrangement because my life is too chaotic for the mess of a relationship.
But Brooks isn’t famous. He’s a normal man living a normal life.
He uses the Polaris to move a herd of cattle to a nearby pen and I see him pull a clipboard out of a worn leather messenger bag. He makes me curious; so many questions swirl around in my brain and I want to ask them all.
“I thought this was a rescue ranch.” I start easy.
“It is. Those animals are living happily up at the main farm. But we raise cattle too.” While he’s driving, I study him carefully. The sleeves of his plaid button down are rolled up to his elbows, revealing tanned, muscled forearms and there’s a fine dusting of beard on his cheeks. But it’s the hint of a scar down the middle of his chest I’m curious about.
When we stop to check on a section of fence needing repair, I work up the courage to ask a dangerous question. “How did you get that?” I point to my own chest and draw my finger down the middle.
“Car accident,” he says matter-of-factly.
I cringe. “I’m so sorry. Must have been a bad accident.”
His mouth forms a tight line as he tips his hat up. “It changed my life.”
A pit forms in my stomach and I know better than to keep on prying. I don’t know this man well enough to ask him to share such private pain.
He checks something off on the clipboard and shoves it back into the messenger bag. “We should head back. Logan’s probably chomping at the bit to show you the cherries.”
We ride back to the main house in silence. When he walks into one of the barns without saying another word, I worry I offended him.
But then the French doors burst open and Logan runs out. “You’re back! Finally! Now we can go down by the river. It’s the best part of the entire ranch.”
“We should probably wait for your dad, right?” I cast a worried glance back at the barn.
“Nah. Grammy can take us. She needs cherries to make her tart.” She lunges toward me and grabs my hand, catching me by surprise. Who knew such a little girl could be so strong?
Margot does in fact agree to drive us down to pick cherries and to see the river. Questions about Brooks are still swirling in my thoughts and I want to ask them so badly.
Margot seems to be able to read my mind. “What do you want to know?”
I have two choices – play dumb or just ask and Margot seems like a no-nonsense woman.
“Where’s Logan’s mother?” I’m not sure if it’s the easiest question or the hardest one but I ask it anyway. I glance in the back of the ATV we’re riding in to see an oblivious Logan. She has earbuds in her ears and is bopping her head to whatever song is playing.
To my surprise, Margot answers. “She passed away when Logan was a baby.”
“How?”
“She and Brooks got into a car accident. Drunk driver hit them.” She tells me everything so matter-of-factly and I wonder how anyone could possibly get over such a loss. But now I also know how Brooks got the scar down the middle of his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur.
She sighs as she steers the ATV over a small hill. Below us is a grouping of trees and just beyond that is the river. “My son is alive and I’m thankful every day for that.”
“You and Logan’s mom didn’t get along?”
“Samantha was a bit of a wild child. She wasn’t raised like Brooks, with a solid, stable home and nosy-ass parents. We butted heads quite a bit. He was always itchin’ to spread his wings and she just helped him. I’m sad Logan will never know her though. That’s a hole I just can’t fill.”
She parks the ATV close to the trees and cuts the engine. Logan immediately springs to action, chattering on about the cherries and begging me to follow her. Margot stays behind and watches us for a moment before she gets out and grabs a basket from the back.
I watch her handle Logan, telling her not to run off toward the river and how Logan instantly obeys. She’s not the wild child around her grandmother.
“Come on Teddi! You have to pick the cherries!” Logan waves her hand and I hurry to join her. She gives me a crash course in cherry picking before I start plucking the bright red fruit from the trees.
Little by little, the basket fills up and I offer to carry it back to the ATV. Picking cherries with a little girl and swooning over a handsome cowboy were not on my list of things to do during this trip. In fact, it never crossed my mind anything like this could even happen. But over the years, I’ve learned the good Lord works in mysterious ways and for whatever reason, He put Brooks, Logan and Margot in my path.
I sigh and let the breeze wash over my face. “My heart is open,” I pray.
