Libby wasn’t all that hungry, so she leaned against the counter and watched them dig into the griddle cakes, all three barely missing a beat between mouthfuls.
She’d been wrong to bring up Chance’s mother last night. His whole mood had changed, and not for the better. Some things cut deep, and this, she figured, cut the deepest. She should have realized how acutely his mother’s abandonment still hurt, given how she had struggled, still struggled, with accepting the death of her mother. Even though her mother had died of cancer, Libby’s young mind had blamed her mother for leaving her. Shouldn’t her mother have seen the symptoms sooner? Couldn’t she have gone for some type of experimental treatment? Shouldn’t she have taken better care of herself? It wasn’t rational, and as Libby grew older, she’d understood her mother hadn’t had a choice.
What drove a mother to abandon her son, though? From all she knew, which wasn’t much, Chance’s father had been a brutal man prone to beating both mother and son. So much so that when his mother left, Chance had to go into foster care after a trip to the hospital. How could a mother have abandoned her son to face that? Maybe Chance was right. Maybe Deidre Cochran had only wanted money when she tried to reconnect with him. That must have just driven the knife into Chance all the deeper.
And what did Libby want from Chance? His love. She’d had it once and thrown it back because she was too scared to make the sacrifices that would have been necessary. She hadn’t believed in herself. But Chance was right. She hadn’t believed in him, either. She’d been wrong about him. But right about herself. It had taken some time for her to grow up. To be willing to take chances. Willing to make sacrifices. She guessed losing her mother at such an early age had felt like sacrifice enough. She couldn’t risk losing anyone else in her family, and she had believed she would have lost her father if she had chosen Chance. Now she knew differently. Her father didn’t want to lose her any more than she wanted to lose him.
Chance was strong, resilient, yet tender and vulnerable. Someone who needed her even if he would never admit it. If only he could believe in her love.
“You going to your interview today?” Chance looked up at her from his seat at the table, his expression quizzical, as if he wasn’t sure where her mind had gone.
Billy was arguing with Lonnie about how saddle bronc riding was harder than bull riding, with Lonnie provoking the youngster with proclamations about bull riders’ “expertise.”
“Yup. This should be the last round,” Libby answered, hoping Chance didn’t guess what she’d really been thinking about.
“Better eat up, then. We managed to save you three griddle cakes. And it wasn’t easy.” Chance gave her a weak smile. “You’ve turned into a decent cook, Libby.”
“I’ll say.” Lonnie’s smile was bigger, more sincere.
“These were as good as my mom’s,” Billy chimed in.
“Thanks, guys.” And thanks to the Fanny Farmer Cookbook. “But I’m not all that hungry.”
Chance frowned. “Won’t do to go all the way to Denver on an empty stomach.”
“What are you three going to do today?” Time to change the subject.
“After stopping in to thank Billy’s mom for all her help, we’ll be going over to the Forrester’s to do some practicing.”
“Should you be getting on a horse with your foot not fully healed?”
Chance didn’t reply, just stared at her, eyebrows raised, while Lonnie snickered and Billy looked wide eyed.
Libby turned to rinse the griddle pan in the sink, the warm water pouring over her hands as she scrubbed. Chance was getting ready to go back on the circuit, and she would lose him for good. This would just be an interlude in her life, a short break to remind her of what could have been. No wonder she had lost her appetite.
*
“So, Miss Brennan, Libby, you’re fresh out of graduate school. Tell me some of the things you’ve learned that will help you in this job.”
The young woman, not much older than Libby, who asked this question certainly didn’t look like the owner of a rodeo stock company. But her last name was Prescott, and Prescott Rodeo Company was one of the biggest suppliers of rodeo stock in the West. Dressed in tight, form-flattering jeans, a short-sleeve, flowing white blouse accessorized with turquoise jewelry, Mandy Prescott looked like something out of Vogue magazine, albeit a western version.
Focusing on the question, Libby related how school had expanded her horizons and thinking so that when faced with a problem, instead of one or two possibilities, she now saw five or six possible solutions and had the tools to critically evaluate the pros and cons. “Every solution has trade-offs. You have to be aware of those trade-offs and understand which ones are most important to you or your client.”
Mandy Prescott smiled. “Good answer. Now what problem has intrigued you with regards to this job?”