Elizabeth tensed. “No, Dallas should have.” They were supposed to be partners in the event, but he hadn’t thought to tell her he’d be out of town. Or that his mother was ill. “I hope Mrs. Maguire is all right.” But she couldn’t keep from asking, “Will he be here for the rodeo?”
“We expect he will. Things are already beginning to heat up on this ranch.”
“I’ve been focused on publicity this week.” Elizabeth frowned a little. “The Barren Journal’s editor finally caved. She’ll interview Dallas for a weekend edition. If he’s available,” she added. “If not, I’ll have to fill in, but they’re really interested in him and, of course, the celebrity factor. I don’t know what we’ll do regarding the TV segment I booked in Farrier. No one will want to see me when they’re expecting a rodeo star.”
“If necessary, perhaps Hadley could do the interviews.” Clara’s lips pursed. “Not that I should burden him with another obligation. His mood hasn’t been the best, and even Jenna won’t bring up an issue if it can wait.”
Elizabeth hoped that Dallas would come back in time. She thought of Becca, who was beside herself about Calvin, which made them kindred spirits. She tried to sound upbeat. “We’ll manage, Clara,” she said.
“Everyone seems excited, and Barren is alive with energy.”
Elizabeth couldn’t complain. The gossip she’d expected hadn’t materialized so far, and even Bernice was keeping quiet, although, certainly with her sharp gaze she’d noticed Dallas’s absence.
Clara chose another square of chocolate. “With the rodeo goings-on, the ranch could use help. I wouldn’t have taken Calvin for a quitter. Hadley’s been good to him, and Calvin was due his pay, which he didn’t take. I’m sure he needed that. What on earth made him pack his things then leave without a word? Without Dallas here too, poor Hadley’s doing all the work himself.”
Elizabeth guessed why Calvin had left but, for Becca’s sake, she couldn’t say anything. They were in the same boat now, and she wished she’d told Dallas about the baby after all. Even when he must already have enough on his mind too.
DALLAS HATED HOSPITALS. He’d spent time in several of them, most recently because of his hip injury, and it didn’t matter how well the staff did their jobs, how skilled the doctors, how kind the nurses were. He always wanted to be somewhere else. Especially now.
“Hey, Mom.” Dallas leaned over her bed. “It’s me again. How you feeling today?”
She framed his face. “Oh, honey. Your father should never have bothered you.”
“Don’t kid a kidder. Of course I came.” Had she forgotten he’d also been here for the past three days? The night before that he’d driven rather than flown to Denver, not only to save money but because he might have to stay longer this time and would need his truck. Perched on the edge of her bed, he took her hand. Hers felt cool, as if the blood had left her body, and his throat closed. “You tell me one more time you’re fine when I can see you’re not, I’ll take all your toys away.”
At his teasing, she brightened. “Not my new vacuum cleaner.” She smiled wanly. “Your dad bought it for my birthday, every woman’s fondest wish for a gift, but I know what he really wanted—to give up his cleaning chore—and just between us, I’m all for that.” Her other hand covered her forehead. “You should see that man bang into every piece of furniture, the wood chips flying.” Then she seemed to run out of steam. Her grip weakened, small and fragile, and the lump in his throat grew bigger. “I don’t know how he’d manage without me.”
“You’re not going to do anything foolish, are you?” Like leave me and Dad? He’d left his father downstairs with sorrow in his eyes, the fear that Dallas also felt. He worried about him too. She was right. Their house—Dallas’s home—could use a good cleaning, and when he’d arrived, there hadn’t been a scrap of food in the refrigerator. His dad had been spending all his time in this hospital, sleeping on a chair next to her bed at night. A half hour ago, Dallas had taken him to the cafeteria for a good meal, so at least he’d eaten today. But what would happen if they lost Millie?
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dallas. I’m in here to rest a few days, that’s all.” She managed a grin. “My doctor looks about twelve years old, but then everyone does—including you. You’ll always be my boy. Tell me what you’ve been doing since we saw you last.”
Dallas had trouble talking around the ache in his throat. His parents were the best, a far cry from the two who had conceived him and Hadley. For a few minutes, he talked about his rodeo, his temporary alliance with Lizzie—he tried to make that sound like strictly business—and his hip, which had mostly healed. He was done at last with rehab.
Millie held his gaze. “When will you introduce me to your Lizzie?”
Dallas froze. “She’s not mine.” Had his mom seen the glint in his eye whenever he said Lizzie’s name? Heard his husky tone of voice? “I knew I was your son from a different mother—” true enough “—but I never guessed you were a mind reader.”
“Then you don’t deny it. That’s not all business. I could tell.”
“No, ma’am.” He brushed hair back from her forehead. “But don’t start naming your grandchildren or, to get things in the order that would please you, planning my wedding.” He explained about Lizzie’s ex-husband, the scandal she’d endured and her three children. “She has to put her life together again, Mom.” And leaving rodeo was probably the only way he might convince Lizzie that he was more than friend material, but he wasn’t about to
