Danny Boy

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A gray late model sedan swung around the slight curve of the drive and pulled to a
stop near the back door. Long shadows had begun to lay across the yard. Golden light
burnished the tall grass in the pasture and gleamed off the paint gelding’s hide. With her
heart in her throat, Erin watched the horse’s ears prick. And she knew.

A car door slammed. “Hey, Kemosabe.”

She heard his familiar deep voice call out the horse’s name, heard his familiar
footsteps on the porch. He didn’t knock. Before she moved, the screen door swung back
and he breezed inside like a summer storm, bringing with him the scents of grass and car
exhaust.

In the early years, she’d dreamed of his return with yearning. Then, since Danny
had chosen rodeo over her and their son, she’d dreamed of it with dread. Now, after eight
years, he was here.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t even say hello. He let the door close with a bang and
leaned against the frame, folding his arms, the fabric of his shirt pulling taut against his
biceps, his broad shoulders. Her heart thundered at his steady regard. Erin stared back.

He removed his baseball—no, football—cap. Its logo read Denver Broncos. His
dark hair looked rumpled, and he needed a haircut. His hazel eyes appeared vaguely
bloodshot. His mouth, always sensuous and soft, turned grim and hard.

And still, something tugged at her inside.

“I came to see my son.”

White surgical tape wound around one forearm and elbow as if to hold him
together. And his face…dear God, his beautiful face. The bruises…

“What happened to you?” As if she couldn’t guess.

“Never mind me. What in God’s name happened to Tim?”

“You must know,” she said, “or you certainly wouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t start on me, Erin.” He came away from the door and, limping, walked
toward her.”

“Timmy’s fine. You didn’t have to come all the way from Utah. Lose a ride and all
that valuable prize money—”

Danny kept coming. “He’s my kid too. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t have to. It seems someone else did.”

“Mom,” he admitted. “She said Tim was asking for me. How’s that broken arm?
Where is he?”

She fought a sense of betrayal because Danny’s mother hadn’t respected her
wishes.

“Don’t you know?” He’d grown up in this house.

“My room?” he said.

“His now,” Erin answered.

On his way from the kitchen—he could barely walk now—he glanced at the table.
“Set another place.” His heated eyes challenged her, and he half smiled. “I drove from
Durango. Colorado. But before that, how’d you know I was in Utah?”