This Time(18)

Belle listened as her father reminisced. "You loved him."

"Of course I did. Still do." He cleared his throat a few times, his hazel eyes fixed on the wall. "But when he broke your heart, it darn near tore me in two. It felt worse than your mother dying. I had a broken, wounded daughter I could not mend. Didn't understand the mystery of Burke walkin' out on ya like that. I lost one of my best friends."

Belle slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "I never heard any of this before."

"I didn't want to add to your burden," he said. "After awhile, time passed and we didn't discuss him around here."

He continued with a sentimental lilt in his voice as he recounted the summers and school holidays Burke worked around the Bar J. "Reese accused me of cheatin' when he wanted to use Burke at the Circle B, and he chose to work over here. Said it wasn't fair having a purty girl to lure away his help."

Belle's mind replayed memories of Burke as Duke spoke: swimming in the pond after a hot summer day's work, riding into town after lunch for a Charlie's chocolate milkshake, racing Trixie and Tracer over the range to the most northern point and back again, every Friday night meeting the gang in town for burgers and a movie.

All through high school, they taught Sunday school to the five and six year olds. Every Saturday night they would plan their morning lesson, then met at the church early to setup and pray for their young students.

The routine remained the same for four or five years until the summer after their sophomore year at college. Burke stayed on campus that year to train and attend summer classes. The following spring, he left college for the pros.

Then her world fell apart. Belle squeezed her eyes shut, trying to end the mental parade through the past.

Duke still prattled on, however. "We worked like a fine tuned machine. Each knowin' what the other was a thinkin'. I didn't have to ask, he'd just know. Jake Morley and Cole Mitchell are fine hired hands, but Burke and me-"

"I think you're remembering it better that it really was, Daddy," Belle said

Duke shifted his kind, wise gaze toward Belle. "My memory is fine."

"Sometimes, I wish I'd never met him."

"Ah, nonsense girl. I hate to hear ya say that," Duke said. "I treasure my memories of him."

"Mine all lead to this tragic end."

"Then ya aren't looking at this right. We have to be grateful for our experiences in life. If'n they turn sour on us, don't mean they were worth nothin' to begin with."

"Daddy, I don't just remember our experiences together. I remember the laughter that led to love. The plans and dreams we shared."

"I know," he said, softly.

"I'm scared to get close to him, Daddy. Even just a little bit. Can you understand that?"

Duke sighed and nodded.

By now, the evening's events had drained Belle's emotional well. She excused herself from Duke's company and went to her room. Curling up in her window seat, guitar in hand, she stared at the twinkling heaven and offered her burdens to the Lord.





Chapter Eight





Late in the afternoon, Burke cut his convertible into the Benning's Circle B driveway, his mind weighted with unresolved relationships and new opportunities.

Warm, inviting lights glowed from the windows of the ranch house, but Burke's mind and heart remained fixed on his mission. He parked the car next to the horse barn and tossed his keys into the glove box.

Inside the barn, dim light filtered in through the open door and the high windows. The smell of leather and clean hay filled the air.

"Hello, Tracer," Burke said softly, making his way to his old friend. He patted the horse gently on the neck. The large gelding greeted him with a familiar nudge and snort. "Want to go for a ride?"

Tracer tossed his head as if he understood. As Burke led him out of his stall, the ceiling lights switched on and a voice called from the door. "You and Tracer heading out?"

Burke snapped his head up and turned around to see Reese strolling toward him with a cup of coffee hooked over his finger.

"Hey, Dad."

"Going to the chapel?" he asked, leaning his broad frame against one of the stalls, studying his youngest son as he saddled up.

Burke grinned. "How'd you know?"

Reese chuckled. "Just a hunch. You used to take Tracer out a lot this time of night during high school and college. When you came home, you always said you'd been to the chapel."

"I've been thinking about Coach's offer."

"It's an interesting proposition."

Burke paused and faced his father. "Think I should take it?"

He shook his head. "Son, you and the Lord work this out, then I'll let you know what I think."

Burke chuckled and threw the saddle over Tracer's broad back. How did his dad always know when to speak and when to hold his tongue? He hoped to be so wise.

"Besides the coaching job, there's my relationship with Grace, and last but not least, Belle."

"Did you think she'd welcome you home with open arms, son?" Reese asked, picking up on the most poignant point.

Burke led the palomino past his father and out of the barn. "No," he said. "But I'd hoped she'd be willing to talk by now."