The You I Never Knew Read Online Free PDF

grandmothers. She wore makeup with the brand name Urban Decay. She had bottle red hair and kohl-deepened eyes, and she was as seductive as Spanish fly on Cody’s defenseless adolescent libido. The most popular girl in the school, she wielded her power over him with casual ruthlessness.
    Since Cody had taken up with Claudia, Michelle felt herself losing her maternal hold on him. Her son was a stranger. When he lied to her, she didn’t know what to do.
    Maybe the sojourn in Montana was a test period, Michelle thought. Could she win her son back, or was he already lost to her?
    The barrel racer didn’t look quite so predatory. Perhaps he’d see her in school. Against his will, Cody was going to have to attend Crystal City High during their stay in Montana because his grades had been terrible lately. He despised the idea, but his grade-level advisor had laid down the law. Attend school in Montana or repeat the term.
    Michelle wandered off, pausing at the baked goods table to admire a plush wool Salish blanket. Handwoven in rich earth tones, the design touched a chord in her. She thought of Joseph Rain, the master painter she had once studied with. His work had held echoes of these ancient motifs. On impulse, she went out to the car to get her checkbook. There was no cold quite so piercing as the cold of a Montana winter night. The new snow was powdery and light beneath her boots. The Swan River was almost frozen over. Only a miserly trickle down the middle remained, though in spring it would transform itself into a roaring gush of white water.
    When she returned to the arena, Cody had moved down one bench closer to the girls. The calf roping had started, bawling dogies and lightning-quick horses kicking up dirt as the cowboys flew at them. The chase lasted no more than a few seconds, but there was a peculiar drama in the frantic flight of the calf, the moment the rope drew taut, the cowboy vaulting from his saddle to bind the feet, the flagger’s arm streaking up to mark the moment.
    “…and in chute number four, we have Sam McPhee,” said the announcer over the PA system.
    The world stopped turning.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Sam McPhee….”
    Time, breath, heartbeat, everything seemed to stop. Applause erupted from the bleachers. She stood at the rail and gripped the rungs hard.
    Sam McPhee. Sam is here.
    Michelle prayed she’d heard wrong. But she knew she hadn’t. Oh, God.
Sam
.
    “Six-time national champion Sam McPhee retired from the circuit in 1992, but we’re lucky to have his local talent here in Crystal City….” The announcer droned on, enumerating accomplishments that didn’t surprise Michelle one bit. The only thing Sam McPhee hadn’t done right was stick around.
    After a few moments, she remembered to breathe again. She looked at the chute at the end of the arena, and there he was. From a distance he resembled any cowboy about to rope a calf. Battered hat jammed on his head, the brim angled down, piggin string clamped between his teeth, coiled rope clenched in his fist.
    Yet she knew him. Knew the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, the fringe of sandy hair touching his collar. She couldn’t help herself. She moved along the rail to get a closer look.
    Sam nodded briefly, almost imperceptibly, at the guy in charge of the chutes. The calf lunged out. Sam followed on a glossy-hided, athletic quarter horse. He roped and dispatched the calf with a speed that drew gasps of admiration from the crowd. Admiration for a six-time national champion.
    Michelle stared, spellbound, unable to move, a fly caught in a pool of honey. Sam appeared leaner, stronger, and quicker than ever. He retained that unique grace of movement she recalled so well. More than brute strength, it was an aura of raw ability coupled with arrogant confidence. He waved to the crowd. Everyone knew he’d made the winning time. Everyone knew he was the champion.
    Sam had it in spades—the star power