Her Secret Cowboy. Marin Thomas

hiked in silence until the family graveyard came into view. Johnny sat beneath the ancient pecan tree, which shaded the tombstones. Unable to articulate his thoughts and feelings Will paced in front of the ornate gate surrounding the plots.

      “You’re about to explode. Let it out.”

      “Look at me.” Will spread his arms wide. “I’ve got no business being a father.”

      “Whether you do or don’t doesn’t matter. The deed is done.”

      “I’ve got nothing to show my son. I’m a grown man who lives in a bunkhouse with his brothers. I drive a thirteen-year-old vehicle and the most expensive thing I own is my rodeo gear and my truck.”

      “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got plenty to offer.”

      “Yeah? Like what?”

      “Like being a father to your son. That’s more than you grew up with.”

      Johnny’s words sent a cold chill through Will.

      “Did Marsha give a reason why she waited until now to contact you about Ryan?”

      “No. I don’t have a clue why she suddenly wants to come clean with me.”

      “Then she owes you some answers,” Johnny said.

      “How am I supposed to look my son in the eye after I insisted his mother get rid of him?”

      “Maybe Marsha hasn’t told Ryan the circumstances of his birth,” Johnny said.

      “And if she did? Then what?”

      Johnny shrugged. “You cross that bridge when you come to it.”

      “Damn.” Will punched the air with his fist. “Ben signed a contract to work on the Mission Community Church.” And the church’s pastor was Jim Bugler—Marsha’s father. Ryan’s grandfather. “I can’t face the pastor after I abandoned his grandson.”

      “You can’t abandon a person you didn’t know existed.”

      “You’re wrong, Johnny. I deserted Ryan when I told Marsha I didn’t want to be a father.” There was no getting past that fact.

      “Give yourself time to get used to the idea.”

      “No chance of that happening. Marsha and Ryan are spending the summer in Stagecoach.”

      “When does she plan to arrive?”

      “Tomorrow.”

      In less than twenty-four hours Will would head down a path he’d never planned to travel.

      * * *

      “HOW COME WE’RE staying the whole summer at Grandpa and Grandma’s?”

      Marsha took her eyes off the road for a second and glanced at her son. “Because they’re getting older and they won’t be here forever.” The forever part might come sooner rather than later for her father.

      Right after Christmas her mother had phoned with the news that her father’s prostate cancer had taken a turn for the worse. The most worrisome news had been learning he’d refused all further treatment except hormone therapy. At seventy-nine, she understood his reluctance to endure a second round of radiation and more surgery. Marsha hadn’t told Ryan the seriousness of his grandfather’s health, because her parents had asked her not to.

      The day she’d first learned of her father’s cancer diagnosis she’d been in a state of panic and then Buck had shown up on her doorstep. He’d been in town for a rodeo and hadn’t called ahead to tell her he was stopping by. That morning Ryan had been home. Buck had taken one look at her thirteen-year-old son and recognized the resemblance to his brother.

      Marsha’s secret was out.

      After Ryan left the apartment to go to a friend’s house, Buck asked if Will was Ryan’s father and Marsha had told him the truth. Buck had been stunned and angry that she’d kept Ryan a secret all these years but Marsha had begged him not to tell Will. She’d confessed that she was having difficulty dealing with her father’s cancer diagnosis and feared revealing the identity of her son’s father right now would overwhelm Ryan. Buck had reluctantly agreed to keep her secret.

      One month had turned into two then three and before she knew it, a year had passed since Buck’s visit and she still hadn’t found the courage to contact Will. The news that her father had stopped fighting his cancer had forced Marsha to confront the past head-on.

      Marsha understood the risks in coming clean with Will after she’d gone against his wishes to keep their child. He’d been adamant that he wasn’t ready to be a father. And she hadn’t been ready to be a mother, but the conscience of a pastor’s daughter refused to allow her to abort a baby or let her father go to his grave without knowing who’d gotten her pregnant.

      Ryan turned the page on his Kindle, then asked, “What are you gonna do all summer?”

      “I’m working as an online tutor for the University of Southern California,” she reminded him. Marsha taught high-school chemistry and had completed her doctoral degree a year ago and hoped to work her way into a teaching position at a university.

      “Does Grandma still have her library card?”

      “I’m sure she does.” Her mother paid extra for a membership to the Yuma County Library so Ryan had plenty of reading material to keep him entertained. In exchange for the use of the library card, Ryan helped his grandmother in the church garden.

      Even though she’d taken precautions by never telling Buck when she was in town and avoiding cowboy hangouts and local rodeos, Marsha was surprised that she’d managed to avoid running into Will or his siblings during her two-week visits home.

      She slowed the car as it approached the four-way stop in Stagecoach. The town was comprised of a handful of businesses, their brick exteriors faded by the desert sun. The main drag consisted of bars, Vern’s Drive-In, the Pawn Palace, Mel’s Barber Shop, the Bee Luv Lee Beauty Salon, where Marsha’s former high-school friend worked, José’s Mexican Diner, a Chevron gas station and a Wells Fargo Savings and Loan.

      “Not much has changed since last summer,” she said.

      Ryan grunted, but didn’t glance up from his e-reader.

      She hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake introducing Ryan to his father. Unlike her son, Will hadn’t cared much about school or grades. She worried that instead of seeing all the special qualities Ryan possessed, Will would find him lacking.

      “Can we go to the library tomorrow?” Ryan asked.

      “I’ve got plans.”

      “What are you doing?”

      “Meeting an old friend of mine.”

      “Who?”

      “A boy I went to high school with.” She turned onto the gravel road that led to the Mission Community Church. A quarter mile later she parked in front of her parents’ stucco ranch house, which sat fifty yards from the church. “Grandma’s waiting at the door.”

      Marsha turned off the car, and they both got out. “Leave the luggage for now.”

      “Look at you, Ryan,” Sara Bugler exclaimed. “You’ve grown at least two inches since you were here last.”

      Ryan hugged his grandmother. “I’m taller than Mom now.”

      “Yes, you are.”

      “You look good, Mom.” They exchanged hugs. “Where’s Dad?”

      “He fell asleep on the patio.” Her mother led the way through the house. “Jim, Marsha and Ryan are here.”

      His face gaunt, her father sat in a lounge chair with the newspaper folded in his lap. She held his hands and kissed his cheek. “How are you, Dad?”

      “Fine,