One Brave Cowboy by Kathleen Eagle Page B

to him and pressed his lips to her palm.
    â€œI know,” she said, barely audibly. “It’s over. Just breathe.”
    â€œIt sounds easy.” He closed his hand around hers and smiled sadly. “I know.”

Chapter Four
    C elia sat on the front step watching each little vehicle as it appeared on the hill half a mile away and slid down the highway. Watching traffic was relaxing when Mark was home. Passing cars were few and far between on their remote highway—a welcome change from their apartment overlooking a busy street in Des Moines—and Celia had made up several guessing games for them to play on summer evenings. Mark loved anything with paws, hooves, wheels or wings, and Celia loved anything that made Mark happy.
    Mark’s father was not one of those things, and watching for his delivery truck was not relaxing.
    A house full of silence had her back. She wouldtake Mark from Greg’s clutches, thank him very much, go inside and close the door. Still quiet but not utterly silent, the house would surround them and keep him out for two blessed weeks. She loved her new house. It was only new to Celia—certainly nothing fancy—but the walls were solid and the doors had locks. And it was hers . The mortgage was in her name. She’d bought the house and forty-two acres of grass land in an estate auction, and she’d spent the past six months struggling to fix the place up.
    Celia took off her gardening gloves, laid them beside the clay pot she’d just filled with mums and rubbed her hands together. One palm felt warmer than the other. She turned it up, imagined a lip imprint and smiled to herself. It was one of many places she’d never been kissed, and she’d been deeply touched by the gesture. Prickles-in-the-throat touched. Butterflies-deep-in-the-belly touched. Cougar was anything but a cool cat. He was warm and sensitive, a little mysterious, a lot attractive, a surprise at every turn.
    She would see him tonight at the powwow grounds. Just thinking about it made her feel like a teenager.
    But waiting for Greg made her feel anxious and worn out at the same time. Their marriage had been over before Mark’s accident. He’d never taken much interest in Mark even though he liked to say he was looking forward to riding bikes with his son or playing ball or having some real conversation. As soon as Mark got over being a baby, they were going to be great buddies. Mark’s milestones passed without Greg’s notice, while Celia’s every move was closely monitored. Who was that on the phone? Why was she showing off her boobs in that dress? What was she really doing when she said she was taking the baby to the park? Celia signed them up for counseling, but the handwriting was on the wall.
    The accident made it official. Celia had done the unthinkable. She’d dropped the ball. God only knew what she was doing when she was supposed to be watching, but Mark was broken beyond repair. Now it was one surgery after another, more doctors, more treatment plans, more sleepless nights. Greg had no stomach for “medical stuff,” and he had all but taken his leave. He cut his visitations or skipped out on them altogether. But that was before the “know your rights” guy had stepped in.
    The sight of the bread truck sent dour memories packing. As soon as the truck stopped, Mark was out the door and in her arms.
    Greg strolled up behind him. “We didn’t get to the Reptile Gardens, but we did some other stuff. We hit Mickey D’s a couple of times.” He ruffled Mark’s hair. “Didn’t we, son? Golden arches?” He whistled as his hand dove over an air arch. “They had a playground. Good times, huh?”
    â€œI missed you, Markie-B. You had fun?” Celiatouched his chin, and he turned to her with a smile. “You and your dad had fun?”
    â€œAre you hoping he’ll say no? ”
    â€œI’m hoping