Page 11 of The Cowboy’s Secret Lover

Three

Faith had been givena ride from the hospital back to the arena, where she collected her car—a candy-apple red muscle car from 1966. After dropping the convertible top, she let the wind blow through her hair as she drove back to her aunt’s home.

Usually, there was nothing like driving on a sunny afternoon to put a smile on Faith’s face. Not today. As she pulled into the drive at Milly’s house, Faith’s disposition had darkened. And she knew why—it was all because of Kurt Crawford.

How dare he question her. He’d suggested that she been, of all things, wrong.

The house—build by Faith’s great-grandfather, a former Bear Creek mayor—dated back to the late 1800’s. It had been lovingly kept by one generation of McGregor’s to be given to the next.

Striding up the front walk, a pang of guilt squeezed Faith’s middle. The current occupant, her 70-year-old aunt, was hardly in the position to take care of such a large house. But nobody else seemed to want to preserve the piece of family history—Faith included.

Opening the door, Faith called out, “I’m back.”

“I’m in the kitchen,” said Aunt Milly. “I just made coconut cream cake to go with dinner.”

A sweetly tropical aroma filled the house and Faith’s stomach grumbled. “Smells good,” said Faith as she entered the kitchen. The cake sat on a plate in the middle of the table. “I might not be able to wait until dinner.”

Her aunt stood at the stove. A floral apron was wrapped around her waist. She rested her knee on a stool, keeping her injured foot off the floor. She still wore a cast. “You don’t want to ruin your appetite. There’s roasted chicken, too.”

“It all smells delicious, but you shouldn’t be going to all this trouble. You know you need to relax.”

“If I can’t take care of you?” Milly asked. “Who can I take care of?”

“But I was the one who came back to Bear Creek to help…”

It was the same conversation they had every day. No matter what Faith said, her aunt insisted on cooking, cleaning, and doing all the laundry. Too much idle time left her antsy—or so she claimed.

“How was your day?” Milly asked as she took the chicken from the oven.

Faith dropped into a chair. “In a word, horrible.”

“Oh dear. What happened?”

“Do you remember Kurt Crawford? We graduated from high school together.”

“Of course, I know Kurt. He comes by once a month or so and helps around the house.” Milly looked over her shoulder. “I remember you were sweet on each other.”

The news that Kurt helped Aunt Milly came as a surprise, yet Faith shrugged. “We dated a few times.”

“If I remember correct, it was more than a few times. Besides, I always thought that his helping out was because he’d been your admirer.”

“It seems that his admiration has worn thin nowadays.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He got thrown from a bull and I won’t give him a medical clearance to ride anymore.”

“Good heavens,” said Aunt Milly. She hobbled to the table and sat next to Faith. “That boy shouldn’t be in the rodeo. I thought he quit.”

“He’s hardly a boy. And he retired years ago but came back.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

Faith knew that the conversation had approached a line she shouldn’t cross. Even Kurt Crawford deserved confidentiality. Then again, his reasons for wanting to ride had nothing to do with his medical conditions. “Erin, his daughter, needs surgery and insurance won’t pay. Her condition is pretty serious, in fact it could become life threatening. He wants to win another national title and use the money to pay for the procedure.”

“Well, why won’t you let him ride?” Milly asked.

Faith bristled at the question. “Another fall could cost Kurt his life.”