His Little Cowgirl. Brenda Minton
unsure of who he was or where he was. Later he had watched tapes of the fall. The wreck of the season, they called it. He had been twisted in the bull rope, dangling from the side of a fifteen-hundred-pound animal. When Cody came loose, the bull twisted and the two butted heads with a force that had given him a huge concussion and some loss of memory.
Jason said it must have knocked some sense into him, because the Sunday after his release from the hospital Cody gave in to the urge to attend the church service the bull riders held each week. He had stood next to his friend, hearing a message his grandfather had tried to tell him when he had been too young to understand. Later on in life he had thought he didn’t need it.
That Sunday he knew he needed it. He knew that he needed to be forgiven. He needed the promise contained in those words, and he needed a fresh start.
He had never dreamed his second chance would lead him to Gibson, Missouri, and a little girl named Meg.
“You look like you got hit by a semitruck.” Jason nudged Cody’s side, gaining his attention.
“Something like that.”
“Did you see Bailey?”
Cody moved to the side to see why the crowd was roaring. He watched a young rider make it to eight seconds and then some. The kids on tour were going great guns with enthusiasm and bodies that weren’t being kept mobile with cortisone injections, Ace bandages and a diet of ibuprofen.
“Remember what that felt like?” Jason laughed and watched as the kid on the bull jumped off, landing on his feet and running out of the arena without a limp.
“Vaguely.” He remembered what yesterday felt like, when he knew who he was and that his life was all about winning the bull-riding championship and walking away with a seven-figure check. Now his goals were as scrambled as his insides.
“I found out today that I’m a dad. I have a five-year-old daughter named Meg.”
Jason took off his hat and ran a hand through short red hair, his eyes widening as he leaned back against the wall. His being speechless didn’t happen often. Cody was sort of glad his friend reacted with stunned silence. His surprise validated Cody’s own feelings of disbelief.
“Wow.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
Jason laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “Congratulations?”
“Thanks. I think.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, if Bailey was seventeen and madly in love with me, I’d do the right thing and marry her. Right now she’s about twenty-eight, and I’m pretty sure she hates me. So that leaves the little girl. I might have a chance with her, but I’m not sure.”
His daughter, a sprite with her mother’s perky nose, heart-shaped face and flaxen hair. Cowgirls were hard to beat. They were tough as nails and soft as down. Until you made them mad. Bailey was definitely mad. She had a right to be, but that didn’t help Cody.
He had a daughter. It was still sinking in. Thinking back, he remembered the luminous look in Bailey’s eyes when she said she loved him, and then the tears when he teased her about cowgirls always thinking they were in love. Finally there were the frantic phone calls that lasted five or six months after she left Wyoming. It all made sense now.
He looked down, shaking his head at the tumble of thoughts rolling through his mind. He had missed out on five years. Without knowing it, he had become his own dad.
“Cody, don’t beat yourself up for something you didn’t know about.”
“If I had called her back, I would have known. Instead I went on my merry way, thinking she just wanted to cry and try to drag me back into her life.” He fastened the Kevlar vest that bull riders wore for protection and tried to concentrate on the ride about to take place. “I should have known Bailey better than to think that about her.”
“You know, I think you only ran because you were so stinking in love with her.” Jason laughed as he said the words, his loud outburst drawing the quick glances of a dozen men in the area.
“Do you think you could announce it to the whole world?”
“Sorry, but I think they’re going to find out sooner or later.”
Cody pulled off his hat and ran shaking fingers through his hair. “I could use a…”
“Friend to pray with?” Jason smiled as he replaced the word with something that wouldn’t undo six months of sobriety.
“Yes, prayer.” His new way of dealing with stress. “I have a daughter, Jason. What in the world am I going to do with her?”
“Buy her a pony?”
“My dad bought me a pony.”
Jason slapped him on the back. “Go back to Gibson, Missouri, and get to know your daughter. You’ve got enough money in the bank to last more than a few years, and a good herd of cattle down in Oklahoma. Maybe it’s time to start using your nest egg to build a nest? You could even use that business degree of yours for something other than balancing a feed bill and tallying your earnings.”
“What if I can’t be a dad?” He didn’t know how to be something he’d never had. That’s why he’d run from girls looking for “forever.”
“No one really knows how. I think you just learn as you go. It’s probably a lot like bull riding, the more you work at it, the better you get.”
Someone shouted Cody’s name. He was up soon. He tipped his hat to Jason and told him he probably would lay off the tour after this event, at least for a few weeks, at least until he settled things with Bailey.
And he would give up ever being a world champion. His goal and his dream for more years than he could remember had been within his grasp, but one afternoon in Gibson, Missouri, had changed everything.
Five minutes later he was slipping onto the back of a bull named Outta Control. He hated that bull. It was part Mexican fighting bull and part insane. As he pulled his bull rope tight, wrapping it around his gloved hand, the bull jerked and snorted. The crazy animal obviously thought the eight seconds started before the gate opened.
Cody squeezed his knees against the animal’s heaving sides and hunched forward, preparing for the moment that the gate would open. Foam and slobber slung around his face as the bull bellowed and shook his mammoth head.
“This is crazy.” He muttered the words to no one in particular as he nodded his head and the gate flew open.
If he survived this ride, he was going back to Gibson, to his daughter and to Bailey. He would find a way to be a dad.
The fact that Cody’s RV was still in the drive the next morning meant nothing to Bailey. The problem was, his truck was there to. That meant he’d survived his ride and returned.
She didn’t know how to feel about Cody Jacobs keeping promises. Six years ago they’d been sitting around a campfire when he leaned over and whispered that he loved her. She had believed him. She had really thought they might have forever.
She wouldn’t be so quick to believe, not this time. This time she would protect her heart, and she would protect her daughter. Changed or not, Cody was a bull rider, and the lure of the world title would drag him back to the circuit, probably sooner than later.
“He got in at around midnight. He was walking straight but a little stooped.” Her dad had followed her to the porch. He pressed a cup of coffee into her hand.
“What were you doing up?”
“Praying, thinking and waiting to see if he’d come back.” Jerry Cross smiled.
“Nice, Dad. It sort of makes me feel like you’re plotting against me.”
“Not at all, cupcake.” He scooted past her and back to the kitchen. “Want