Along Came a Cowboy by Christine Lynxwiler Read Free Book Online Page B

Georgia, but your mom said you didn’t get it yet.”
    â€œI can wait—,” Jenn starts.
    Mom holds up her hand and smiles. “Actually, we thought we’d just give you two this year.”
    Jennifer opens her card and squeals at the check amount.
    â€œNot like we have any other grandkids to get their feelings hurt that you get double,” Dad says gruffly.
    â€œYet,” Mom says.
    I assume she means Tammy’s pregnancy, but the look shegives me is really pointed, so I’m not so sure.
    I glance away in time to see an expression flit across Jenn’s face that I can’t define. But if she’s anything but happy, she covers with a remarkably gracious smile. “Thanks, Granddaddy. Grandmom.” She stands to give them both a quick hug then sits back down.
    â€œSo, Rachel, business is good?” Dad asks.
    I nod and take a bite of my cake and ice cream.
    â€œAlma said she saw some drawings—plans for a new clinic—on your wall,” Mom says.
    I nod again, motioning toward my full mouth.
    Dad frowns. “I don’t remember you telling us about that.”
    I swallow. And stall. “I’m sorry. Right now, it’s just a dream.” One that will involve buying some—if not all—of your land. I actually got the idea a few years ago when my dad mentioned something one Christmas about their intention to sell the ranch and buy a smaller place sometime in the not-too-distant future.
    The conversation stalls until Jennifer finishes and sets her bowl on the table beside her. She points toward something. “I forgot that you barrel raced, Aunt Rachel.”
    I lean forward to see what she’s looking at. A trophy. Puzzled, I turn to Mom. “Where’d you find that?”
    â€œIn a box in the attic. I got that one out to remind me to have you take the box the next time you came by.”
    I cringe as Jennifer reaches over and wipes a layer of dust off the trophy with her finger. It’s been a while since I stopped by, hasn’t it?
    â€œYour grandmother was quite the barrel racer in her time, too,” Dad says, his green eyes sparkling with pride as he looks at my mom.
    Jennifer picks up the trophy and examines it from all angles.
    â€œAwesome. I’ve always wanted to be in a rodeo.” For the first time since her arrival, excitement twinkles in her eyes.
    â€œWell, why not? You can do anything you put your mind to,” Dad says. There’s no telling how many times he said that to me and Tammy when we were growing up. And even after I disappointed him beyond redemption, I clung to those words. They got me through the grueling schedule of chiropractic college and every tough time since.
    â€œWhat about Mom?” Jenn asks. “Did she barrel race?” A shadow crosses her face again, and I know she’s remembering that she’s adopted.
    Mom stares at the trophy as memories flit across her face. She smiles. “Tammy was more interested in being Miss Rodeo Queen than barrel racing. She liked horses, but only if they didn’t wrinkle her outfit.”
    â€œOr clash with it,” I add. Mom’s eyes widen in surprise at my joke, but we laugh together, and Dad’s soft chuckle rumbles underneath.
    Jennifer clunks the trophy down onto the table and sits up straight. “I want to ride bulls.”
    My mom chokes, and my dad leans up to beat her on the back. “Sorry. Cake went down the”—she gasps—“wrong way.”
    I can totally sympathize.
    â€œGirls don’t ride bulls,” I say quietly.
    Jennifer looks at me, her mouth set. “I saw a really cool article about girl bull riders on Yahoo. Some associations don’t let them ride, but there are plenty that do.”
    I stare at her. She knows how to shake things up, doesn’t she? I can sit this one out, though. My parents will never stand for their precious and only granddaughter climbing on a twisting,