Harris stared into the eyes of the petite woman he'd just collided with. As she focused on his face, he watched her eyes widen and her face pale. Under her breath he heard her whisper, "Oh, shit!"
He often got strange reactions when people recognized him, so he took it in stride. As he helped the lady to her feet he said, "Hey, I'm really sorry about that. It was entirely my fault because my mind was a million miles–"
"There you are," he heard Angel calling. He glanced up to see Eli and Angel walking toward him. Glancing back at the woman who looked out of place at a rodeo with her spiky black hair and perfectly creased slacks, he noticed she was even paler and looked about to faint. Ignoring Angel and Eli, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Ma'am, are you all right? Should I call a doctor?"
The woman shook her head.
Angel walked to stand beside them. "Harris, I see you've met Lucinda, the reporter traveling with us for the next few weeks doing an exclusive on you."
Harris jerked his gaze back to Lucinda's and saw her grimace. He almost laughed because he imagined how she felt. Instead, he grinned and said, "Is that so?" She barely nodded and his grin widened.
Angel was now introducing Eli to Lucinda. She paused in her introduction and asked, "Lucinda, are you feeling okay? You're very pale."
The reporter finally found her voice and croaked, "Yes, I'm fine."
Angel said with concern, "Nevertheless, you've traveled a long way." She returned her attention to Harris and Eli. "Why don't you boys excuse us for a couple of hours?"
Harris replied, "Sure. How about we meet up with you ladies at your RV at five and then have supper at the Longhorn Saloon. We can get acquainted with Lucinda then."
Eli agreed, "Sounds like a plan. I'll call and make reservations."
As Harris watched the womenfolk walk toward the RV area, Eli said, "What the heck was that all about? The gal looked like she wanted to run for the hills. What did you do to scare her?"
Sighing, Harris said, "I almost flattened her and her glasses went flying. Seems she can't see much without them." He smiled. "And she has a short fuse. She chewed my ass out for being so clumsy. After I put her glasses back on her, she recognized me and almost fainted. I guess she figured it's not a good idea to roast your assignment."
Eli chuckled. "Well, with that kind of introduction, this next month or so should prove interesting." He patted his brother's shoulder. "Just eat crow and maybe she'll write something nice about you." Eli started walking away and called over his shoulder, "And maybe not."
Harris didn't retort. His mind was already contemplating the situation that had made him so inattentive in the first place—his birthfather.
Rather than enter the hubbub of activity on the rodeo grounds, he walked to the outskirts and plopped down behind an old oak, leaning against the gnarly trunk. He grabbed a blade of grass and stuck it in his mouth. If he were a cowboy from the 1800s, he'd be rolling a smoke right now.
You're a damn coward, Harris, he chastised himself. A week ago when the bartender had pointed out Lucky Larry mopping the hallway, he'd stared at the pathetic man before slamming a ten spot on the counter and rushing out the door.
Now, listening to the hum of activity behind him and watching a bluebird forage for seeds in the weeds, he closed his eyes and felt the sting of tears. His birthfather, the man he'd always wondered about, was a recovering alcoholic who mopped floors for a living. In his mind, Harris had painted him as a wrangler working on a ranch somewhere after his sudden departure from the rodeo circuit. He'd done internet searches when he was a teenager, but the man seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. That's when Harris had romanticized an image of him and overlooked the online mentions that had been less than flattering. But maybe that's why he'd stopped searching. He was afraid of what he'd find out.
But now he knew the truth.
Harris placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The biggest question now was what to do—confront the man who had denied his paternity or just leave things be? If he confronted him, maybe he could get answers to questions that had plagued him all his life. But what if the answers only made him feel worse? Maybe it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. Hell, he'd had a wonderful upbringing by a man who'd treated him like his own son—a man who would do anything for him.
Harris lifted his head, reached for some pebbles and mindlessly tossed them. Finally, resolved, he frowned because he knew what he would do. Deep in his heart he'd known since rushing from the bar. He would drive the half hour back to Stephenville and confront Lucky Larry.