Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Courting The Cowboy

Courting The Cowboy
Carolyne Aarsen


Meeting the Cowboy's FamilyLooking for inspiration, artist Ella Langton rents a cabin in the isolated Porcupine Hills of Alberta. She didn’t count on having neighbors, but rancher Cord Walsh and his three children are just a stone’s throw away. Still healing from a tragic accident, Ella has no plans of reaching out, but she’s having a hard time keeping them out of her yard…and her thoughts. And when little Suzy ropes Ella into helping her with an art project, she can’t help her growing feelings for the girl’s rugged daddy. With three persistent children, Cord and Ella may find their fenced-off hearts opening up sooner than they thought!







Meeting the Cowboy’s Family

Looking for inspiration, artist Ella Langton rents a cabin in the isolated Porcupine Hills of Alberta. She didn’t count on having neighbors, but rancher Cord Walsh and his three children are just a stone’s throw away. Still healing from a tragic accident, Ella has no plans of reaching out, but she’s having a hard time keeping them out of her yard...and her thoughts. And when little Suzy ropes Ella into helping her with an art project, she can’t help her growing feelings for the girl’s rugged daddy. With three persistent children, Cord and Ella may find their fenced-off hearts opening up sooner than they thought!


“I know you’re only here because my daughter roped you into it,” Cord said.

Ella knew she had come across as reluctant around the children, but his resistance to her watching the kids stung.

“I make my own choices,” she said, struggling to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Cord returned her look. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just—”

She lifted her hand to stop another protest coming from him.

“Look, I know I didn’t come across all warm and welcoming the first time I saw your kids, but I...I have my reasons.”

As the words slipped out of her she caught his frown.

“What reasons?”

She had already said too much and she wasn’t about to divulge more.

“Suffice to say I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

She wanted to say more, but sensed they were treading on the edges of conversations that would lead them to places neither of them wanted to go.


CAROLYNE AARSEN and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window, through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey. Visit her website at carolyneaarsen.com (http://www.carolyneaarsen.com).


Courting The Cowboy

Carolyne Aarsen






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For with You is the fountain of life;

in Your light we see light.

—Psalms 36:9


To my grandchildren, the light of my life.


Contents

Cover (#ue2aff652-7fa9-521e-a037-d34d347a9b59)

Back Cover Text (#u0b11db40-03c0-5d73-ac1e-9d1de6a13413)

Introduction (#u3b73b038-7369-5f53-bd8d-3d162bc167d0)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Title Page (#u4cd83fc2-7e39-528d-a4d6-1094a967c54b)

Bible Verse (#ub68525d7-e592-5b4d-93cf-0bfbbf20b371)

Dedication (#ued9badb9-fe51-5c4c-9372-c8a018ce87c8)

Chapter One (#u7e608e37-9dd8-5001-8683-289e171db1bf)

Chapter Two (#uabbe13c0-5a09-5f3c-90f7-aa66c5d04d48)

Chapter Three (#u201313a3-9738-571f-8c27-2c975666f416)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#udc403fd4-410b-5c2a-9844-67df5f904d3d)

Ella tossed the pencil onto the kitchen counter with a clatter, glaring at the doodles on her sketch pad. She’d been working all morning trying to capture the image in her mind but all she could create was pages of dark scribbles, a grocery list and a cartoon of her dog. None of which bore any resemblance to the eerie forest she had envisioned.

It used to come easier.

Before.

She shook off the thoughts and closed her sketch pad. If you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing. Move, get out and get something.

The voice of her art instructor in her head wasn’t any consolation. Ella had been painting and producing for years and she’d never had...nothing. It was mostly the past two years that she felt empty and uninspired.

She thought moving to this cabin, nestled in the Porcupine Hills of Alberta, would jump-start her moribund creativity. The low price was perfect for her. Her reduced income, thanks to her inactive creative life, had narrowed her options. When her mother called her to tell her about this place she encouraged Ella to take it.

Behind her mother’s suggestion was the unsubtle hint that Ella start producing. Ella knew what was on the line. She had applied to L’école des Arts Créatifs, an art school attached to a prominent art gallery in Montreal for a position as a teacher. One of the conditions was that she come up with a series of new works for the gallery.

So Ella signed a six-month lease on the cabin, packed up her apartment in Calgary and moved here.

That was when she discovered that the owner of the ranch where the cabin was located, an elderly man named Boyce Walsh, lived in town. And that his son and three young grandkids were the ones who lived in the other house on the yard. She didn’t need the distraction but by then it was too late to back out of the lease. She had given her notice at her other apartment, and other than moving in with her mother, which wasn’t an option at all, she had no recourse but to move.

Boyce had assured her the kids would leave her alone, and they did. It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids. But lately they created a sadness she didn’t want to face.

“What do you figure, Pablo?” she said to the dog lying on the floor at her feet as she slid off the stool she was perched on. “Time for some coffee?”

Pablo lifted his large head, his brown eyes staring at her as if trying to decide what he wanted, then unexpectedly he stood and trotted to the door, his bushy tail curved over his back as he released a single bark.

Ella got up to see what he was barking at, then frowned as she saw, through the glass window in the door, a flustered-looking young woman standing on her step. She wore snug blue jeans and a tight blue T-shirt that said Awesome Ends with Me. She had one hand on the shoulder of a young boy who seemed to be about seven and was all skinny arms and legs sticking out of cargo shorts and a button-down short-sleeved shirt. The younger girl beside him looked to be about six and was chewing on one end of a loose braid, her pink sundress hanging crooked on her tiny frame.

The children from the main ranch house down the road, she assumed, her heart taking a swan dive.

She sucked in a deep breath, stilled her rapidly beating heart and put on what she hoped was a pleasant expression as she opened the door.

“Good afternoon, what can I do for you?” she asked, looking directly at the young woman, her heart rate increasing even more when she noticed the toddler clinging to the woman’s hand, wispy blond hair framing a chubby face. Ella guessed he was two years old. Almost the same age—

She cut her thoughts off as the kids dropped to their knees in front of Pablo before she could warn them to be careful.

“Oh, look at the dog.”

“She’s so pretty.”

To Ella’s surprise, Pablo, who wasn’t used to children at all, closed his eyes and leaned in as they stroked his thick fur.

“Paul. Suzy. Be careful. You don’t know what the dog will do,” the young girl warned.

“She’s really quiet.” The boy, who Ella assumed was named Paul, looked from the young woman then up to Ella, flashing her a gap-toothed smile, his dark hair slicked down. “What’s her name?”

“Actually he’s a he, he’s a Malamute and his name is Pablo.” Her voice came out strained as she struggled to get a grip on her fluctuating emotions.

“Well, miss, I need your help,” the young woman was saying, flicking her long brown hair away from her face, her mouth working at her chewing gum while she spoke. “I applied for another job and I’m supposed to start this afternoon.”

“So why are you telling me this?”

“My name is Adana by the way and I need you to watch the kids. I called Cord, the kids’ dad, and he said he would come right away but he’s not here and if I don’t go now I could lose this job. It’s a great office job and they’re hard to find in Cedar Ridge so I gotta go pronto or I’ll lose my chance.”

Ella tried to keep up with her breathless chatter but all she caught was “watch the kids.”

No. She couldn’t do this. Not a chance.

But before she could say anything Adana knelt down in front of the toddler. “Hey, Ollie, you be a good boy for—” Adana looked up at Ella who was still trying to absorb what was going on. “What’s your name again?”

“Ella Langton,” she said automatically, her own emotions a tumble of pain and concern as she clasped her arms around her midsection struggling to articulate her protest. Pablo, however, was eating up the attention with low grunts of pleasure.

“That’s just like Elsa except for the Langton part,” the little girl called out, her smile broad and toothless. “From Frozen. Do you have a sister named Anna?”

“So, kids, Miss Langton will be watching you,” Adana said before Ella could tell Suzy that no, she didn’t have a sister. “Paul and Suzy, you listen and take care of Ollie, okay? Your dad will be here right away. And remember, no cookies.”

“Wait a minute,” Ella shouted as Adana spun around and jogged down the stairs. “You can’t just leave—”

“Tell Cord I’m sorry.” Her insincere apology floated in the breeze behind her as she hurried toward her vehicle.

Ella called out one more futile protest but Adana was already reversing out of the drive in her little red car, sending up a roiling cloud of dust as she sped toward the joint driveway leading to the road to town.

Ollie’s lower lip stuck out and his eyes welled with tears. But he didn’t make a sound, which made his sorrow even harder to deal with.

“Can we come in?” Suzy looked up at her, her cheeks pink and eyes bright with excitement. “My grandpa said we’re not allowed to come into the house but I think it’s so cute. I just love it.”

“I... I don’t...know...” she floundered, her head and heart battling with each other and an anger with Miss Adana swirling through it all.

“Adana said my dad is coming right away,” Suzy assured her as if she understood Ella’s hesitation. “We won’t make a mess and we’ll make sure Ollie is quiet.”

Ella’s gaze slid back to Ollie and the sight of him standing there, in silent misery, hooked into her wounded heart. A trembling began deep in her soul. She wanted to run. To leave.

But how could she with three small children looking up at her expectantly, one of them on the verge of tears?

“Can we come in?” Suzy pressed.

Ella looked behind her at the house that still held boxes from her move, then at the kids. “I’m not completely moved in yet.”

But Suzy seemed to assume that meant yes. She grabbed Ollie’s hand and dragged the reluctant toddler inside.

“Do you have any snacks?” Paul asked as he followed his sister, hands in his pockets, looking around the house.

“Remember, Adana said no cookies,” Suzy warned, one hand still clutching her little brother’s.

“But Adana is gone,” Paul said in a matter-of-fact voice. “And Daddy isn’t here, either.” He glanced over at Ella. “My dad won’t let us have sweets.”

“Sorry, I don’t have any candy or anything like that,” Ella said, still standing by the door, one arm clasped around her midsection, the other resting on Pablo’s head. She wished she didn’t feel uncomfortable around these little people. Ollie, especially, created an unwelcome rift in her heart.

Her dog released a gentle whine, then pulled away from her, padding toward the children.

“Grandpa Walsh lets us have snacks when my daddy isn’t around,” Paul said, stroking Pablo again, holding the dog’s massive head between his thin hands. “He says my dad is too strict.”

Then the sound of a truck snagged her attention as another vehicle roared onto her yard and stopped where Adana’s car had once been.

A tall man stepped out, slender, broad shoulders, cowboy hat, blue jeans and twill shirt rolled up over his forearms. He looked around, his head swiveling and then stopping when he noticed Ella standing in the doorway.

“Are my kids with you?” he called out.

The father, Ella guessed. Cord Walsh. She hadn’t met him, either, preferring to keep to herself.

“They’re in the house,” she said as he strode toward her.

He was taller than she had expected. Lean, his face shadowed by stubble, his eyes a piercing aqua and right now they were like lasers. His jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists, swinging in time with his determined stride.

The children must have heard him because they came to stand beside her.

“Where is Adana?” he asked the kids, snatching Ollie up in his arms, cuddling him close. “Why did she leave you guys here?” His ice-blue eyes ticked over the kids and then landed on Ella as if it was her fault they were there.

“She said she got a real job,” Paul said in a matter-of-fact tone, seemingly unfazed by his father’s harsh voice, his narrowed eyes. “And we were going to visit with Miss Ella and she has this cool dog.”

Cord drew Ollie closer as the little boy, sensing his father’s anger, started crying in earnest, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, sobs spilling from his mouth.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you.” Cord’s voice melted immediately, turning soft and tender. He tucked the little head into his neck, pressing his cheek against the little boy’s.

The gesture and the soothing sound of his voice weaseled their way into Ella’s lonely soul. That a man could speak so gently to a child so soon after being seemingly consumed by anger surprised her.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off him or the child he held. And each created opposite emotions. Appeal and withdrawal.

She was about to look away when those eerily green eyes connected with hers. And for a moment something indefinable sparked between them.

She shook it off. Being married to Darren had taught her hard lessons about trust.

Then she stole another glimpse at the child in his arms, an even starker reminder of why she had to keep her distance. The churning in her stomach eased away any attraction he might hold. He had kids and there was no way she could travel down that road, her own grief snapping at her heels.

“Paul. Suzy. We should get back to the house,” Cord said to his children. “You have homework to do.”

“But, Dad, she has a cool dog,” Paul protested, then looked over at Ella. “Please? Can we stay and play with Pablo?” He grabbed her hand, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

Then before she could stop herself, she pulled her hand back from his. As soon as she saw the hurt look on his face she felt horrible. But her action was instinctive.

“I’m sure Miss Langton has her own work to do,” Cord said, coming unwittingly to her rescue, the narrowing of his eyes showing Ella that he had caught her retreat from his son.

She wanted to explain, but why bother? She would talk to Boyce. Ask him to please make sure the children didn’t come there again.

Cord rested a hand on Paul’s shoulder, easing him toward their house. “Thanks for watching them,” he said, his voice holding the faintest edge.

You don’t understand, she wanted to say, wishing she wasn’t so concerned about his opinion.

Instead Ella clasped her hands together and took a step back, giving him a tight nod.

Finally Cord left, holding Ollie in his arms, Paul and Suzy trailing along behind, looking back over their shoulders at Pablo.

“Let’s go, Pablo,” Ella said, holding the door open for him to come back into the house.

But he was whining softly, watching the children leave, his tail waving slowly as if telegraphing his regret.

Then before she could stop him, he bounded down the stairs after the kids.

“Pablo, come back here,” she called out, hurrying down the steps after him.

He hesitated but then Paul squealed his pleasure and ran toward the dog just as Pablo ran to meet him.

They collided and Paul went down. Pablo barked, straddling the boy, licking his face.

Cord spun around just at that moment and, from the look of horror on his face, Ella sensed what he was thinking and realized how it might look to him.

“Pablo, heel,” she called out.

Cord quickly set Ollie down and he wailed his protest as Cord hurried to where Paul and Pablo were wrestling. Paul was laughing and Suzy joined in.

“Kids. Get away from that dog,” Cord shouted as he reached out to catch Pablo’s collar.

“Don’t,” Ella yelled. “Don’t grab him.”

Cord listened just as Pablo jumped back and barked again. But he was facing Cord now and his bark held a tone of warning.

Please, Lord, let him listen, Ella prayed.

“Pablo, heel,” she called again as her dog faced down Cord. “Heel.”

Finally he heard her and returned to her side.

She grabbed him by the collar and turned his head to look at her, establishing her dominance over him. “Down. Now.”

He sat down, looking at her, awaiting further instructions.

“I can’t say I like this situation,” Cord said, his tone angry as he picked up Ollie, who was now sobbing his little heart out.

Ella knew anything she would have to say would be a waste of breath. Instead she turned back to the house, pulling Pablo along with her.

She was relieved that he behaved himself as she led him inside and closed the door, heaving out a sigh.

As first impressions went, that one was not good.

* * *

“I love that dog,” Paul said as Cord ushered his kids into his house, disappointed at how shaky he still felt. “I wish we could have a dog.”

“You need to stay away from Miss Langton’s house,” Cord said, frustrated at the harsh tone that edged his voice.

Cord’s own heart was still thundering in his chest at the memory of that huge dog straddling his son. Ollie must have sensed his fear because as soon as he picked up the little guy again, Ollie cried even louder.

Trouble was, his heart was pounding for another reason that he was loathe to acknowledge. Though he had heard about Ella from his grandfather, he had imagined someone a whole lot different. Someone artsy looking—and older.

Not a young woman with large, expressive brown eyes and auburn hair that seemed to glow.

He knew he’d been a jerk. Seeing her had created a confusing mix of emotions he knew he couldn’t indulge in. It was easier to make it sound like he was more worried about the dog than her.

He brushed aside the clothes his kids had draped over the couch and sat down. Cuddling his sobbing son, the reality of his situation drowned out any thoughts he might have of their attractive neighbor.

Adana had called at the worst possible time. Cord was hassling with the mayor, trying to get the wording of their grant application right. His uncle George was being difficult and wrangling with Helen, the group’s secretary, who was trying not to snap back at either of them. The meeting was falling apart and he could see the entire project going south.

And that couldn’t happen.

After Adana’s call he had tried to get hold of his father, but Boyce wasn’t answering his cell phone. Or he had left it behind, as he was prone to do. So Cord cut the stressful meeting short and hurried home, only to end up worrying about their new neighbor’s dog and how Ella had reacted to Paul’s gesture of friendship.

And not only that, his house looked like the victim of a frustrated burglar. Adana had done nothing today.

He dropped his head on the back of the couch, shifting a still-crying Oliver, the little guy’s cries cutting through the headache that hovered all day.

Too much work and not enough time.

Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant a visit to the kids’ other grandparents. Monday he had another meeting to finish up what they didn’t get done today. He had to move his cows but tax time was looming, so Tuesday he needed to work in the office. The day after that was another meeting with the Milk River Rodeo Association to discuss Cedar Ridge’s proposal to be part of their rodeo circuit. But the Association had balked, claiming there wouldn’t be enough support, asking them to do more studies. Which meant more work for Cord and the Cedar Ridge Rodeo Group. It was work his wife was intensely involved in until her untimely death two years ago.

But it was getting more difficult to juggle his family and the workload plus ranch work. Now his nanny quit just as spring break for his kids was starting.

“I’m hungry, Daddy,” Suzy said. “Can I have a snack?”

“No, honey. It’s getting close to supper time,” Cord said, stroking Ollie’s head as the toddler’s cries finally eased off.

“But I’m hungry now.” Suzy dropped onto the floor and glared at him.

“Please get up, honey. You’ll make your dress dirty.” The floor didn’t look much better than the counter. What had Adana been doing all day?

He probably knew the answer to that one. Checking Snapchat and texting her friends.

Suzy stayed where she was. “I don’t care about my dress,” she said, pouting. “I want something to eat.”

Cord bit back the reprimand that immediately jumped to the fore. The kids were upset. Well, so was he. Adana was the fourth nanny he’d had since Ollie was born. The first one was a friend of the family who got pregnant, the other two he’d fired for incompetence. Adana had only been around a couple of months but came close to getting fired too.

He knew this wasn’t good for the kids. The past two years their lives had been full of confusion and changes. They were probably still dealing with the fallout of Lisa’s death.

He knew he sure was.

He unclenched his jaw and relaxed. “That’s no way to talk to Daddy,” he said to Suzy, keeping his voice even. “And you’re not getting a snack right now. We’ll be eating in an hour and I don’t want you to spoil your appetite.”

“It won’t. I promise.”

“And where have I heard that before,” he muttered, setting Ollie down while cringing at the cracker crumbs and bits of cereal sprinkled over the floor. Ollie fussed again and Cord guessed from the way his mouth was curving downward, things would escalate.

Cord headed to the cupboard to get a bottle started. He knew Ollie was getting too old for that but these days it was the only thing he took and it was the only way for Cord to maintain his sanity.

He opened the cupboard but there were no baby bottles.

“Suzy, do you know where Ollie’s bottles are?”

“I think in the crib,” she said, still sulking on the floor. “Adana put him in bed all morning, but he kept crying so I kept bringing him bottles.”

Cord banked another rush of anger with Adana and her laziness. Probably wasn’t the worst thing that she was gone.

But still.

He looked over at Paul, who sat quietly at the table coloring. His little people pleaser. Suzy was now lying on the floor, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, deliberately ignoring his previous request to get up.

His little boundary pusher. Just like her mom.

Ollie pushed himself to his feet, and started teetering toward Cord.

“Suzy, can you please go upstairs and get a bottle from the crib for Ollie?” he said, bending over to pick him up before he began another full-scale crying onslaught.

Suzy slumped her shoulders and flopped her arms in disgust. But, thankfully, she trudged up the stairs adjoining the kitchen.

“What’s for supper?” Paul asked, looking up from the drawing he was working on.

“I planned chicken, potatoes, broccoli and a salad.” At least that was the menu he had set out for Adana to prepare.

But a check of the refrigerator showed him no chicken was thawing and as far as he could tell no potatoes had been brought up from the cold storage off the garage. He’d have to go get them himself. And from the way Ollie was pouting, he’d have to take the little guy with him.

“Suzy, do you have the bottles yet?”

She showed up at the top of the stairs, no bottle in hand but holding another dress. “I want to change,” she announced.

He stifled a groan of frustration and dug way down, trying to think of what Lisa would say. She’d always had more patience than he did.

“Please, just bring down Ollie’s bottles,” he said, forcing a stiff smile to his face.

She rolled her eyes and flounced off.

Ten minutes later, two complaining kids in tow and lugging a content Ollie who was noisily sucking on a bottle, Cord headed out the door to the root cellar just off the garage.

The sun was sinking toward the horizon and a cool breeze sifted around the buildings, remnants of the winter chill that had finally given way to a reluctant spring season.

In a month Ollie would be two. In a month he and the kids would be visiting Lisa’s grave again.

His heart clenched as it always did when he thought of his wife.

And the little boy now perched on his hip. He remembered too well that day of the car accident that took Lisa’s life. The sight of his wife, so cold and still in her hospital bed after he made the heartbreaking call to deliver Oliver prematurely and then, even harder, to stop all medical intervention.

A week later he took Oliver back to the ranch and he began his life as a widower and father of three.

A bark sounded behind him and he turned to see Ella and her dog heading toward the road.

“Pablo,” his kids shouted, spinning around and running toward them.

“Suzy. Paul. Come back here,” Cord called out, dropping his pail and trying to intercept them.

Pablo barked, jumping up against the leash that Ella had him on. His tail wagged as he jumped again.

“Down,” Ella commanded her voice firm, and to Cord’s surprise the huge dog settled on his haunches whining, his tail flicking back and forth like a plume in the dust.

Paul and Suzy had slowed their steps as Cord caught up to them.

“Don’t run away from me like that.” His eyes ticked from the dog to his children and, against his will, to Ella.

She had her hair pulled back now, anchored by a ball cap. But that only seemed to enhance her large, expressive eyes.

“I’ve got the dog on a leash,” she said, the tone of her voice holding an edge as she looked from the kids to him. “He didn’t go running to the kids.”

“I understand,” he said, realizing where part of her prickliness came from. “And I appreciate your diligence.”

Ella wound her dog’s leash around her hand once more as if to show him that she had her dog under control. “He’s a good dog.”

He’s a big dog, he wanted to say.

“I hate to put you on the spot,” he said, feeling that he needed to lay some ground rules with their new tenant, “but I have some concerns with my children being around him, so I would have to ask if you could tie him up if he’s outside.”

Ella lifted her chin in a defensive gesture. “Boyce assured me that the children wouldn’t come—” She stopped there, biting her lip as she looked down at Suzy and Paul who were still stroking her dog’s head.

He guessed that his dad told her the kids wouldn’t get in her way and he figured from her reaction to Paul, Suzy and Ollie that she didn’t like kids.

Which was probably a good thing. She was far too attractive and, of late, he’d been getting lonely. His friend Owen had been pushing him to date. Put himself out there. But he had his children to think of and he wasn’t doing anything to jeopardize their well-being.

“I understand what you’re saying,” he said, a cool note entering his voice.

Though in spite of that he glanced her way again, flustered to see her doing the same.

He shook off his reaction and called out to the kids just as an old, rusty pickup came down the drive.

“It’s Grandpa,” Suzy and Paul called out, their gnat-like attention spans turning to his father. They ran to the truck as he got out, holding a bag.

“What did you get for us, Grandpa?” they asked, grabbing his hands and dancing alongside him as he limped toward Cord.

“What do you think I got, Suzy Q?” he asked, tweaking Suzy’s nose and tapping Paul on the cowlick that Cord could never get under control.

“Candy. Candy,” they both chanted.

Boyce glanced over at Cord with an apologetic shrug, then walked over to Ella, holding out one gnarled hand.

“Good to see you again, Miss Langton,” he said in his best aw-shucks manner.

In his heyday Boyce Walsh was a rodeo bull rider who still bore the scars and limp of a bad wreck that ended his career. Boyce and his brother, George, inherited the ranch from their father who, along with his brothers, had in turn inherited it from their father. Both Boyce and George had expanded their ranches, as had their cousins. Walshes had lived in Cedar Ridge even before the town was officially established.

Cord’s brother, Morgan, and sister, Amber, had both moved away, but Cord had stayed to help his father work the ranch, living the life he’d always wanted, carrying on the Walsh family tradition.

“Hope you’re getting settled in?” his father asked Ella, still holding her hand.

“A few things to unpack but otherwise it’s coming.” She gave his father a wide smile that lit up her face and Cord could see that Ella had, like so many others, been taken in by his father’s effortless charm.

And to his own disappointment, the change in her voice and manner created an unwelcome quiver of attraction in him.

“Kids not bothering you too much, I hope?” he asked, glancing down at Suzy and Paul. “I warned them to leave you alone.”

“No. It’s fine,” Ella said, her voice reverting to the cool tone he had heard before that told him it wasn’t.

Boyce’s frown showed his father sensed it as well but instead he looked at Cord, then at Ollie who had his head tipped up to catch the last few drops in his bottle. “So where’s Adana?”

“She quit. Dropped the kids off at Ella’s,” Cord said, shooting a glance at Ella as if to let her know that he had nothing to do with his ex-nanny’s irresponsibility. “Called me in the middle of a meeting to let me know.”

“That little minx,” Boyce said, shaking his head in disgust. “I thought she might not be the best one to hire.”

Cord said nothing to that seeing as Adana had been hired on his father’s recommendation. She was the granddaughter of one of his coffee buddies at the Brand and Grill in Cedar Ridge.

“I was on my way to get potatoes,” Cord said, moving Ollie to his other arm and taking a step away. “For supper.”

Boyce looked over at Ella, his face brightening. “Would you like to join us?” he asked and Cord stifled a groan. His father could read cattle like no one he knew but was illiterate when it came to people.

He saw Ella visibly recoil and how her full lips grew tight. Her jaw clenched as she glanced at Ollie who was finally happy, swinging his baby bottle around by the nipple.

“I’m sorry. I already ate,” she said, her voice breathless as her eyes skimmed Cord’s, then looked away.

“Adana forgot to take meat out,” Cord added, shooting a warning glance at his father. “So it’s slim pickings anyhow.”

“Well, maybe another time,” Boyce said, slapping his thighs, his hearty voice oblivious to the undercurrents of tension that emanated from Ella.

What was her deal, anyhow?

“And speaking of supper, I should get moving,” Cord said.

“Here, I can do that for you,” Boyce said. “Suzy and Paul, you come with me. Cord, why don’t you show Ella that trail we cut through the bush last year? She could take her dog for a walk there.”

Before Cord could protest or Ella could voice the objections he clearly saw on her face, Boyce was gone, Suzy and Paul trailing behind him, clamoring for whatever he had in the bag he swung from his other hand.

Cord blew out a sigh, then turned back to Ella, taking the bottle from Ollie before he dropped it in the dirt. “Sorry about that. Dad tends to be a bit clueless.”

“It’s okay. He meant well.”

“And about that trail—”

“I can find it myself. Just point me in the right direction,” she said, twisting her dog’s leash around her hand in a nervous gesture as Pablo stood, watching the kids leave and whining.

“Puppy,” Ollie said, lunging toward the dog in a movement that caught Cord unawares. The little guy would have fallen straight down but Ella reached out in time to steady Ollie with her free hand. For a moment she held his son’s arm as Cord regained his balance.

Then, as she shifted Ollie back to him, their eyes met.

And in that brief blink of time he saw a shadow of something deep in those expressive dark eyes. Sorrow? Pain? Regret?

A dangerous emotion shimmered in his heart as their eyes held for a split second longer than necessary. He felt a surprising and unwelcome connection to her. As if, like him, she held her own doleful secrets.

“I’ll find the trail,” she said, her voice breathless as she lowered her eyes and pulled Pablo away from both of them.

Then she turned and strode away, head high, movements deliberate, her dog trotting obediently alongside her.

Cord watched her go, unable to get rid of the suspicion that there was a lot more to Miss Ella Langton than met the eye.

Then Ollie grabbed his hair with his sticky hands, as if reminding him of his obligations and the danger of letting someone like Ella get behind his defenses.

He gave his son a smile and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Yeah. I know, buddy. I’ve got you, Suzy and Paul to think of. No room at the inn.”

But as he left he couldn’t help one last glance over his shoulder at Ella.

Just in time to see her doing the same.

He couldn’t allow himself to be attracted to her or any woman, he reminded himself, turning around and almost running to catch up to his father. He would have to keep his guard up around Ella.

He couldn’t afford to let himself even think of her.


Chapter Two (#udc403fd4-410b-5c2a-9844-67df5f904d3d)

Ella glanced at the clock as she called up her mother’s number on her cell phone. It was early enough on a Sunday morning that her mother was probably still home. Ella tucked the phone under her ear as she popped a pod into the coffeemaker. She was feeling funky. She hadn’t slept well last night and needed coffee. Now.

Her mother answered right away.

“Good morning, Mother,” Ella said, setting a cup under the spout. “How are you today?”

“Good. Just getting ready for church.”

Ella heard the expectation in her mother’s voice. Though Ella had gone to church her entire life, the last five years her attendance had petered off. She hadn’t attended at all the last year she and Darren were married. It bothered her mother, and many times Ella had wanted to explain but couldn’t. Too much was at stake.

It took her over a year, after Darren’s death in a motorcycle accident, to start attending again. At first sporadically, then slowly the weekly rhythm created by years of church attendance asserted itself. The past couple of months she had started attending weekly again. This morning she felt a desire to go and had even gone so far as to search for a church nearby.

“How are things in the gallery?” Ella asked, preferring to keep the conversation light and easy.

“Good. Had a wonderful showing yesterday. A few people asked when we could expect to see more of your work.”

Again her comment carried a heavy subtext. Start producing.

“Has the move to the cabin helped you at all?” her mother continued. “Given you inspiration?”

“It’s slow,” Ella said, slipping a cup underneath the coffeemaker. “Still working through stuff.”

Her mother was quiet, acknowledging what Ella had dealt with. “Honey, it’s been two years.”

“I know exactly how long it’s been,” Ella replied, pressing the heel of her hand against her eyes, frustrated at the sharp tone her voice took on. “Sorry. It’s even more frustrating for me than it is for you.”

“I understand, dear, but sometimes you need to push through the resistance. Sometimes resistance is a signal that better things are coming.”

Ella had heard variations on that theme often in her artistic career. Her husband, who had at one time been a part owner of her mother’s gallery, had tossed the same words at her when she was stuck. And sometimes he was right. But this was different. This was a wall she couldn’t get over no matter how hard she pushed and clawed, trying to find inspiration.

“I’ll keep plugging. I’m sure it will change eventually.” Ella glanced at some of her older paintings stacked against the wall. Dark landscapes with jagged trees silhouetted against blue-black clouds that screened a silver disc of a moon. Superimposed over them in a different medium, were vague shadows of angels—transparent if you stood directly in front of them, but they changed as soon as you moved sideways.

Though she had indulged in darker paintings, the last few years of her marriage the landscapes had become bleaker. They’d come out of a deep sorrow. A plaintive cry for comfort.

And they sold for thousands.

Her mother had pleaded with Ella to part with the few she had kept, saying they would fetch a goodly sum at the gallery.

But Ella kept them as a reminder of that time in her life and of her dependence on a man she should never have married. Darren had spun daydreams for her that made her think she would be cared for. Cherished. Nurtured. They would have a dozen children. A beautiful home. Money would not be a problem.

For a girl who never had a father or siblings and a mother who, though she loved her, was occupied with her business, these were heady dreams.

The house had come but at a cost.

So had the marriage.

“Have you gone running?” her mother asked. “That’s always helped you before.”

“I have. It’s beautiful here.” Ella glanced out the window, her one arm wrapped around her midsection as she looked past the copse of trees dividing her yard from the neighbors’. Beyond that the land flowed away to the solid line of granite mountains still capped with snow. “The neighbor, Mr. Walsh, his son and grandchildren live in the house. Apparently he has a house in town. Did you know that?”

Her mother’s moment of hesitant silence answered that question.

“Boyce assured me you would have your privacy,” her mother finally said.

“I hope so. I can’t afford any distractions.”

“Do you want me to contact Blanche DuMonde in Montreal? Ask for an extension? Explain your situation?”

Situation. Is that what this deep guilt and pain is called?

“No. I don’t want to give them a reason to refuse me. I really want that opportunity. To be able to teach art and paint...it’s a dream come true.”

A year ago Ella’s mother had sent in some of Ella’s work to L’école des Arts Créatifs based in the heart of Montreal. The owners of the gallery connected to the school saw her work, were impressed and contacted Ella’s mother about a teaching/artist-in-residence position they were opening up. They wanted Ella to apply. But she needed to create a body of new work in order to get the job.

And that was where things had fallen apart.

“I need you to know I have been praying for you,” her mother said, her voice quiet as if hesitant to even say as much as she did.

“Thanks, Mom.” Nice to know that while she’d struggled to pray to a God she had thought let her down, her mother still could intervene on her behalf.

Ella steered the conversation to inconsequential things. People they knew. Sales her mother had attended. Upcoming artists she was featuring. Then they said goodbye with the promise to stay in touch, and Ella set her phone beside her computer screen, glancing at the website on it.

Cedar Ridge Community Church. Services at 10:00.

No doubt the Walsh family would be attending, as well. Though she’d seen children at the other churches she attended, she’d managed to avoid them and the reminders they gave her.

Her mind skipped back to yesterday and her heart contracted thinking of Ollie.

That moment she had held his arm as she steadied him had cut her like a cleaver. His soft skin. The sweetness of him.

She stifled a groan, frustrated that seeing him could bring up the old pain so easily. Though she knew it would hover like a shadow over her life, she thought she had pushed it further back.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again.

Pablo whined and she shut the lid of her laptop with a decisive snap.

“Okay, okay. I guess we’ll go for a run instead,” she said to her dog.

The first two years of Pablo’s life had caused extra stress for Ella as she tried to work his exercise in between painting and helping her mother and Darren at the gallery.

However the past couple of years the two of them had clocked hundreds of miles as Ella ran every day, seeking peace and absolution in the steady movement of her feet on pavement.

At one time she could lose herself in her painting but that had eluded her since she lost her baby son. Two months later Darren’s death had sent her world into a tailspin.

Running centered and grounded her. Gave her a purpose.

Then, as she stepped outside, Suzy’s and Paul’s voices carried through the grove of trees between the houses. It sounded like they were arguing.

It’s none of your business, she told herself, tightening her grip on Pablo’s leash as he strained toward the noise of the children. Boyce or Cord should take care of that. Not you.

But the fight was escalating. Then she heard a hollow thump followed by a heartrending wail from Suzy. And it sounded much closer than the main ranch yard.

She waited to see if someone would come but no one did.

So she tied Pablo up and followed the sound of Suzy’s cries. To her surprise they led her to the back of her cabin. She turned a corner and there they were.

Suzy sat on the ground by a tall, metal swing, sobbing and clutching her head. She was wearing a frilly pink dress. Paul had on a pair of blue pants and a white shirt. They looked dressed up. Probably ready for church.

“What happened?” Ella asked, hurrying to Suzy’s side and kneeling down beside her.

“Paul...pushed...he pushed me off the swing...on purpose,” Suzy wailed, leaning into Ella.

The movement caught her off guard. Once again she was holding on to a little child and once again her heart contracted.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Paul protested. “She wanted me to give her a push.”

“You didn’t need to push so hard,” Suzy shouted back at him. She returned to Ella, wrapping her arms around her, sobbing.

In spite of her own reaction, Ella’s arms automatically slipped around the little girl’s narrow shoulders and held her close. To her surprise, it felt good to be wanted. To be needed. Even if it was by a slightly dramatic six-year-old.

Suzy seemed to be milking this for all it was worth. Ella could hear that her cries had turned from sincere to forced and she suppressed a smile.

Paul squatted in front of Suzy and touched her shoulder. “I’m supposed to say I’m sorry, right?”

“You’re supposed to be sadder,” Suzy said, her head buried against Ella.

Ella almost laughed aloud.

Then she heard Pablo bark and the kids sat up, looking past Ella, and scrambled to their feet.

“What are you kids doing here?”

Ella looked back to see Cord standing a few feet away, hands planted on his hips. He could have been intimidating with his broad shoulders and piercing eyes and stubble shading his lean jaw.

But the buttons of his blue-and-white shirt didn’t line up with the buttonholes and one of the tails of his shirt hung out of his wrinkled jeans. He looked like he had dressed in a hurry.

“Sorry, Daddy. We asked if we could come here when you were in the shower.”

“Did I say yes?”

Paul dropped his head, his one toe digging in the dirt around the swing set as he slowly shook his head.

“I thought you said yes,” Suzy said, her expression guileless, her hands folded demurely in front of her. Ella was impressed with how easily she shifted from brokenhearted to beguiling.

“I didn’t.” The tiniest note of hesitation slipped into his voice and Suzy seemed to jump on it.

“But I thought you did,” she said, leaning forward, her eyes wide, her expression pleading. “And these swings are way more fun than ours and you always like us to play outside. You say it’s healthy. So we thought we could come here. That was a good idea, right?”

Ella looked away so neither Suzy nor Cord could see her battle to repress her smile.

But Cord must have been subjected to his daughter’s machinations more than once and seemed to be unaffected.

“Wrong,” he said with a note of finality. “You know what Grandpa Boyce and I said about disturbing Miss Ella.”

Ella lifted a hand in a gesture of protest at the form of address. “Please. Let them call me Ella.”

Miss Ella sounded like she should be wearing a hoop skirt and drinking lemonade on a plantation.

“Did the kids come to ask you?” he asked, leveling his eyes at her.

Ella glanced over at Paul and Suzy and caught the little girl’s pleading look. She wasn’t going to lie and cover Suzy’s disobedience yet she felt sorry for them. No mother, and now no nanny and a father who seemed busy.

“We didn’t ask her,” Paul said, intervening. Then he turned to Ella, his expression serious. “And I’m sorry we bugged you. We didn’t mean to. We always played on these swings before ’cause we don’t have any by our house.”

His words sounded so sincere and, at the same time, so formal and so adult for his age.

But what was even worse was the notion that she was the Big Bad Neighbor taking away their fun.

The solitude had been what she signed up for, she told herself. However, as she looked down at their sad faces, she felt petty. What did it matter if the kids came to her yard to play on the swing set?

Was saving herself a few moments of discomfort worth making these kids feel restricted on their own ranch yard?

“You know what?” she said. “I go out for a run every day with Pablo at eight o’clock in the morning and after supper. Why don’t you come and play on the swings either of those times?” That way she would be satisfying Cord’s demands that her kids stay away from her dog, and the kids could come and play there while she was gone. She glanced at Cord as if to check with him but, for some reason, he was still frowning.

Suzy let out a cheer and then grabbed Ella’s hand, looking up at her with a wide grin. “Thanks, Miss Ella. That’s awesome possum.”

Her faint lisp made the words sound even more adorable.

“Okay, kids, over to the house,” Cord said. “You have to get ready for church.”

Suzy kept looking up at Ella, still held her hand. “Are you coming with us? To church?”

Ella wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. And the pleading look on the little girl’s face tugged at her heart.

“Paul and Suzy, go to the house now and change, please. And go straight to the house. No stopping at Miss Ella’s porch to pet that dog.”

Cord’s voice was firm and the kids sensed they had already gotten as many concessions as they could.

“See you in church,” Suzy said, releasing her hand.

The assumption that she was coming hooked into her soul.

They walked past Cord but as they did he reached out and stroked Paul’s head, tucked a strand of flyaway hair behind Suzy’s ear, his casual gestures melting her resistance to him. It wasn’t hard to see he was a loving father. “Could you two wash up? And tell Grandpa I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He spoke softly, smiling at his children.

He watched them leave and once they were out of earshot he turned back to Ella.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Paul was right. They played here all the time. The house used to be my dad’s. I’m sorry they bothered you.”

Before she could say that they hadn’t disturbed her, he carried on.

“And don’t feel like you have to let them come over. I know you’re not crazy about kids.”

She wanted to protest, realizing how things might have looked. But she stopped herself as she held his steady gaze. He was an attractive man and his interaction with his kids made him even more appealing.

She had to shut this down. There was no way she was going there again. Darren had taught her some harsh lessons about trust and relationships.

“If I’m gone when they come over I think it should work out fine,” she said, looking away from his blue-green eyes, reminding herself that she had other priorities, as did he. “Besides, they have school so I probably won’t see them much.”

Cord sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately they have two weeks off for spring break starting Monday.”

Ella shot him a frown. “So they’ll be around all day?” What was he going to do with no nanny?

“I’m sorry if that’s a problem,” he said, his voice going hard and his hands going up in a gesture of defense as she realized that he had misunderstood her. “They’ll be out of your hair all day today because after church we’re visiting my in-laws in Calgary. But if you need to look for another place to stay, my dad can help you out.”

Then before she could explain what she had actually meant, he turned and walked away.

Pablo barked at him as he went past and Cord shot her dog another frown.

Awesome. Way to underline his perception of us, Ella thought, sighing. Clearly he seemed to think she didn’t like his kids at all.

She glanced at her watch. In twenty minutes they would be leaving for church. She should take Pablo out so she could be gone when they left.

But as she walked back to where Pablo was tied up, the memory of Suzy clutching on to her hand and asking her, so innocently, if she was going to church clung to her thoughts.

I should stay home. I should work.

There was that word again. The one Darren kept throwing at her. She should work harder. She should contribute more.

She should be a better wife.

She didn’t want to do should anymore.

And what do you want to do?

She held that question as she sought the reason she used to attend church.

When she and God were closer. When she trusted Him to take care of her.

Her and her baby.

She shook off the thought but behind it came the thought of Suzy’s expectant face and the hope she was reluctant to extinguish.

* * *

“Miss Ella came to church,” Suzy whispered, grabbing Cord’s hand as Reverend Blakely pronounced the final blessing on the congregation.

Cord didn’t want to look back to see the very attractive Miss Ella with her exotic eyes and narrow features.

He felt a flicker of self-reproach at the attraction she created in him. This morning, when the kids were gone, he’d had to stop himself from taking a step closer to her. From holding her gaze and trying to find a connection between them.

He knew she was all wrong. She didn’t seem to like kids and Suzy and Paul were his priority.

But still, he got such mixed vibes around her. Because while she seemed uncomfortable around his kids, when she looked at them he saw a haunted look that puzzled him. He wanted to find out more about her.

Yet he knew he shouldn’t go there. He didn’t have room in his life for anyone else. Things were getting too busy with his Rodeo Group work.

He turned to leave but his father, who had been sitting beside him, stayed where he was, grinning about something.

“So what do you think about asking Miss Ella over for lunch?” Boyce asked, his eyes bright.

Cord sent up a prayer for patience, recognizing, once again, his father’s not-so-subtle matchmaking.

The past couple of months his dad had been after Cord to go out and date. Make himself available. The same thing his friend Owen had been saying.

“Me and the kids are going to Lisa’s parents’ place for lunch,” he said, squashing his dad’s plans. “Besides, she won’t come anyway.”

“You’re making those poor kids sit in the car for over an hour just for a visit?” Boyce grumped, conveniently ignoring the last part of Cord’s statement.

Cord knew exactly what his father thought of his bimonthly visits to his in-laws. Boyce brought it up most every time he went. “Suzy, Paul and Oliver are their grandchildren too,” he said.

“Seems to me they could get themselves over to the ranch once in a while,” Boyce muttered, hitching up his blue jeans.

Cord wasn’t getting into that old argument. Though they had come to the Bar W a couple of times, Louis and Hope had often said how hard it was for them to be in on the ranch in this house. To see the memories of their daughter and be reminded of their loss.

Did they never think it was hard for him to be there every day?

He brushed the disloyal thoughts aside. He made the trip because he should. It had become a way of finding some type of absolution.

And have you?

“Well, I feel badly for Ella,” his father said, clearly not letting go of that particular topic. “She seems pretty alone.”

“She didn’t have to move out into the back of the beyond,” Cord said, trying to keep his tone neutral, nodding to a few friends. Returning a wave across the rows of pews from one of his many cousins.

Walshes had lived in Cedar Ridge since it was first established, and many of them had stayed, ranching and farming with their families. Creating a community that took care of each other and watched out for each other. It was that community that got him through those dark days after Lisa’s death. When he was alone with a newborn and two grieving children.

Though his father had moved to town when Cord and Lisa moved onto the ranch, he came back from time to time after Lisa died. Having Boyce around the Bar W helped, but Cord had never wanted to lean too much on his dad. Boyce had his own issues to deal with. When Dalton Rennie ducked out of town two years ago, not only had he left behind two daughters, he also left a bunch of creditors on the hook. One of whom was his father. Boyce had spent the past couple of years doing some creative financing to cover the debts.

And now with Cord’s brother, Morgan, talking about coming back to Cedar Ridge, Boyce wanted to find a place for him, as well. All of which created its own stress for him.

“I see Miss Ella,” Paul called out as they stepped into the large, spacious church foyer, brimming with people chatting and pouring themselves coffee. But before he could run over, Cord grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t take off. We’re leaving right away for Grammie and Grampie’s.”

Paul slouched his shoulders forward. “I don’t want to go all the way to Calgary,” he grumbled. Then he brightened? “Can we go to the zoo when we’re there?”

Once again, Cord felt the weight of expectations and his busy life. “Sorry, buddy. You know that Grammie and Grampie like to stay at home on Sunday.”

Paul made a face and Cord understood exactly how he felt. The trips to his in-laws were a steady reminder of his own loss and the consequent guilt. Added to that, the visits were often, to be frank, rather tedious.

His in-laws never wanted to do anything with the kids or go anywhere. Sundays were for spending time together at home, as a family. Lisa had often commented on the fact that Sundays at her home could drag on forever.

“Can’t we stay home today?” Paul pleaded.

Cord was about to respond when someone clapped their hand on his shoulder and pulled him around. “Cord. We need to chat.”

His uncle George stood in front of him, his eyes narrowed, his lips tight.

Cord stifled a groan. Uncle George Walsh was a tall, heavyset man with a bristling mustache and a harsh demeanor. When Cord was younger, he and his brother, Morgan, and his sister, were terrified of him. But George had mellowed somewhat the past few years. In spite of the death of his one son, Dirk, his daughter-in-law, Leanne, had given him a grandchild and George doted on the little boy.

But right now Uncle George was glowering, which made Cord guess that more work lay ahead of them.

“We called a meeting Monday to lay out a new strategy,” Uncle George said. “We need to crunch some numbers.”

“Don’t know if I can make it. My nanny quit and the kids have the next two weeks off,” Cord returned, fighting down his frustration. The proposal was taking up more time than he had bargained for.

“I could get Leanne to watch them for you,” he said.

“She’s working on the fund-raiser.” And the Cedar Ridge Rodeo Group needed every bit of that money to make up for the money it had taken for their current bid to get into the Milk River Rodeo Assocation.

“Right. Forgot.” George blew out a sigh. “It’s real important you show up,” he said. “Lisa had such a burning vision for this.”

And there it was. How did George, every time, manage to find the one thing that would guarantee Cord would find a way to make this work?

His wife’s burning vision. The vision that they fought over and the one that ultimately took her life.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Cord said.

“Thanks. Appreciate all your help.” Then George raised a finger to catch someone else’s attention. “Sorry, Cord, gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

And before Cord could wrap his head around the thought of more meetings, his father tapped him on the arm.

“You might want to talk to the kids. They’re bugging Miss Ella.” He glanced over to where his father pointed. He sighed when he saw the kids chatting with Ella. She stood by the glass doors leading out of the building, one hand on the metal bar. Like she was ready to leave.

Could Paul and Suzy not take a hint? The woman obviously didn’t like them.

Suzy, however, was oblivious as she fiddled with her hair, giving Ella shy glances. As he came nearer he heard Paul chattering like a magpie, telling Ella all about the garden seeds they were going to buy to grow their own food.

“Can you get Oliver from the nursery?” Cord asked his father. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Sure thing.” His father nodded, but just before he left, Cord caught a glint in his eye that he didn’t trust.

He walked over to join his kids, tamping down his frustration and, even worse, his attraction to Ella. She wore black pants and shirt, with a bright red scarf draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose, flowing in shining waves.

“Suzy. Paul. Stop bothering Miss Ella. We have to go,” he said, his voice firm so that Ella would understand he hadn’t sanctioned their behavior. Again.

Paul slouched and Suzy made her face but he stopped them midcomplaint.

“Grammie and Grampie are waiting, and I think they have a surprise for you.”

This got him a slightly more interested look. Louis and Hope had said that they wouldn’t be around on Paul and Suzy’s birthdays, which fell within a week of each other. So they said they had a present for them at their place.

He used that to get them away from Ella, who clearly looked like she was ready to make her escape.

“Can we stop and see Pablo again?” Paul asked.

“I don’t think—”

“No, you can’t—”

Ella and Cord spoke at the same time, then both stopped at the same time.

“Why don’t you kids go to the car and wait for me there?” Cord asked.

Paul simply bobbed his head, then slumped through the glass doors. Suzy followed, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest signifying her displeasure.

“Sorry about that,” Cord said, his tone clipped as the door fell shut behind them. “They’ve been pushing boundaries lately.”

She waved off his apology with a vague smile. “They just wanted to say hello.”

There it was again. That hint that there was more to her unease around the kids. She looked up at him and their eyes connected.

Those deep brown eyes softened, and in their depths he saw a flash of sorrow. He couldn’t look away as his own breath became difficult to find. He suddenly wanted to find out more about her.

Then she blinked, lowered her head and the moment was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Have a good day,” she muttered, then left.

Cord knew he shouldn’t watch her walk away, her head down, her hands clutching her purse like she was hanging on to a lifeline.

Her car was parked by the graveyard adjoining the church parking lot, and as he looked past her to the headstones in their neat rows he felt himself pulled back to reality.

His wife was buried there and in an hour and a half he would be sitting in her parents’ house. Once again hearing how wonderful their daughter was and how much they missed her.

Which as always, created a sickening guilt over Lisa’s death. A death he always felt personally responsible for.


Chapter Three (#udc403fd4-410b-5c2a-9844-67df5f904d3d)

Here she was again. Facing another blank piece of paper and no inspiration.

Ella wanted to scream her frustration. Especially because she even went to church yesterday hoping for something. Some peace or inspiration that would allow the thoughts and ideas to flow.

And again, nothing.

Then, as if her life was one endless round of déjà vu, once again she heard Suzy’s and Paul’s voices near the house. They were chattering away about something. Clearly excited.

Once again Pablo got up and ran to the door.

On the one hand, Ella fought down her own frustration, but at the same time part of her welcomed the intrusion. Clearly she wasn’t getting any work done anyway. And somehow the thought of seeing them didn’t bother her as much as it initially had.

She turned in her chair, and saw Pablo still sitting by the door, looking expectantly outside.

Then she heard faint whispering, and curious to know what was going on, she got up.

The kids stood with their backs to her house and it looked like Paul was holding something in his arms.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Paul said. His shirt was covered in straw and his shorts looked stained and dirty. “Dad said we shouldn’t come.”

“But I think Miss Ella would like to meet Oreo.” Suzy was bent over whatever Paul held in his arms, her own hair sprinkled with flecks of straw. Today the little girl wore plaid shorts and a black T-shirt tattered at the hem. Her hair was a snarled mess. What had the two of them been doing and who—or what—was Oreo?

Pablo stood now, looking intently at the kids, definitely interested in whatever the kids held in their hands. Just to be safe, Ella grabbed him by the collar as she opened the door.

“Maybe we should go back to our house,” Paul whispered.

But then Suzy saw Ella.

“Hi, Miss Ella. Look what we got from our Grammie and Grampie for our birthdays.” She grabbed Paul and spun him around.

An adorable black-and-white kitten lay cradled in Paul’s arms.

Pablo seemed far too interested in the animal, and not in a good “let’s be friends” way, but a “you look like a tasty meal” way.

Unfortunately Paul took her dog’s attention as friendliness. “Hey, Pablo, look what we have,” he said, showing the dog the kitten. “A new friend.”

“Don’t. Please,” Ella warned, her eyes shifting from the rising hair on the back of Pablo’s neck. “I don’t think Pablo likes your kitten.”

“Everyone loves kittens,” Suzy said, and before Ella could stop her, the little girl pushed Paul—and the kitten—closer to Pablo.

Pablo lunged and Ella tried her best to hold him back. Then, to her horror, the kitten, sensing the potential threat, clawed its way out of Paul’s arms and ran into the house, its tiny claws scrabbling across the linoleum.

Pablo spun around and Ella clung to him tightly.

“Paul, please go get that kitten,” she called out.

Paul stood, staring as Ella wrestled with her dog.

“Pablo. Sit,” she ordered in a firm, decisive voice.

Pablo hesitated but did as he was told. Hours of training with the dog had finally paid off. Nevertheless, Ella decided to play it safe and kept her hand on his collar.

“Paul, did you see where the kitten went?”

Paul silently shook his head, still looking at Pablo as if unsure what to do.

“I know where Oreo went,” Suzy announced and marched into the house, patting Pablo’s head as she passed him.

Pablo licked her hand and Ella relaxed. A bit.

“I think he ran into the living room,” Suzy said, disappearing around the corner.

Then Pablo twisted back to the doorway again, almost wrenching Ella’s arm loose. Now what?

Boyce Walsh was limping toward the house, head down, looking as if every step was an effort in his rush to get to the cabin.

He looked up and saw Ella, then waved with one hand. “Hey, Ella.”

Then he stopped, one hand on his chest, looking horribly out of breath. Ella, still holding Pablo, wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hey, Paul, you should go back to the house. Where’s Suzy?” he wheezed, one hand on the railing of the cabin’s porch.

“Are you okay?” Ella asked, concerned. The man sounded like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Yeah. Just short of breath. Woke up and the kidlets were gone.”

Ella glanced back at Paul who was now stroking Pablo’s head, then back at Boyce. “Is Ollie sleeping?”

Boyce shook his head. “He’s not here. He’s staying at his grandparents’. The other grandparents,” he gasped.

Why did that make her feel relieved?

Then Suzy showed up beside her, oblivious to the low growls Pablo was making. “I’m here, Grandpa. I was just getting Oreo.”

“You kids need to get back to the house. Now,” he said, but Boyce’s breathlessness took away the force of his words. “Your dad is on his way home and he won’t like it that you’re here bothering Miss Ella.”

Ella could see Suzy was having difficulty holding Oreo. A slow growl built in Pablo’s throat.

Suzy was struggling with the now frightened cat. “Oreo, stop scratching,” she called out, tears welling in her eyes.

Ella made a snap decision. “Stay here,” she said, then dragged her dog back to his kennel in the corner of the dining room, reprimanding him on the way.

He settled in the kennel as she closed and locked the door.

Then she returned to the front porch, where Suzy was crying now. Ella gently took the cat from the little girl. Thankfully Oreo curled up against her, settling down right away...

“Why don’t we all go back to the house,” she said, glancing over at Boyce who was still struggling to catch his breath.

“Good idea,” Boyce said as he stood. “Where’s your dog?”

“Inside. In his kennel. I don’t trust him around the kitten.”

Boyce shook his head. “Figures that their grandparents would give them a cat without talking about it to Cord first.”

Ella decided it might be best not to pursue that conversation. Suzy was still upset and she needed a distraction.

“So how old is Oreo?” she asked Suzy as they walked toward the trees.

“Three months old,” Suzy answered. Then she reached up and grabbed Ella’s hand.

Ella’s initial reaction was to pull back, but at the same time, the feel of the sticky fingers woven through hers awoke the same maternal feelings she had when she had first found out she was pregnant.

She choked down an unwelcome thrum of sorrow.

“And does she like it at your place?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going and keep her mind from going back down the rabbit hole of regret and guilt.

“We just got him yesterday,” Paul chimed in, dancing ahead of them down the path that wound through the trees. It was cooler there amongst the spruce and aspen, and the whisper of the wind in the leaves was soothing. “Grammy and Grampie gave him to us for our birthdays.”

Ella could hear Boyce muttering as he followed them, and in spite of her own tangled emotions, she had to suppress a smile. Clearly he did not approve of the cat. As they walked through the trees she felt a quiet peace enfold her. To one side she saw a bench tucked into an opening, a small respite. She wondered who had put it there and why.

They broke out into the open and Ella gasped. This was the first time she’d seen the house and the ranch. It was hidden from sight by the trees between the two yards.

The house was built in a Craftsman style with heavy trim and large frames around the windows. The porch wrapped around the house, and Ella guessed that the other side had a perfect view of the valley and the mountains beyond.

A ways below the house she could see a barn tucked into a hillside and a herd of cows gathered in an enclosure beyond that. On the other side was a smaller pasture, with a half a dozen horses grazing there.

Past the sweep of a green valley dotted with trees rose the mountains, gray and craggy and iced with snow, a stark white against the blue sky. Though she had a view of the mountains from her cottage as well, it was only a partial glimpse, not this sweeping vista.

“Pretty, aint it?” Boyce said, still winded as he came to stand beside her.

“‘Pretty’ hardly describes it,” Ella said, giving him a cautious smile.

“My wife and I built it many years ago and Lisa renovated it. Lots of memories here.”

He moved ahead of them and Ella followed, still holding Suzy’s hand as they made their way down the slope toward the house.

The front door was flanked with flower pots that had remnants of dead plants hanging limply from them. The flower beds flanking the front door looked equally unkempt. It was sad to see such a beautiful place look so uncared for.

Boyce held the door open for her and she stepped inside, still carrying the cat.

“Just bring that creature indoors,” Boyce said, making a space in the entryway strewn with boots and shoes. “She has a crate there you can put him.”

Ella hesitated but Suzy tugged on her hand. “I can show you the toys we got for him,” she said.

Ella reluctantly followed, and when she stepped into the kitchen she felt a clench of dismay.

Dirty dishes and pots covered the quartz counter. The countertop stove was encrusted with old food and the sink held a few more pots. Pictures hanging askew decorated the stainless steel refrigerator, as did innumerable finger marks and streaks of unknown substances.

Beyond the kitchen a basket piled with laundry sat on the dining room table, clothes spilling out of it onto papers and books and more dishes.

A metal kennel sat in one corner and Suzy crouched down to open it up. “We can put Oreo in here,” she said, reaching up.

Ella relinquished the cat, trying not to grimace at the sight of the family room through the arched doorway of the kitchen. A television was blaring, and toys of all shapes and sizes joined more clothes scattered on the beautiful fawn-colored leather couch and love seat. A fireplace filled one wall, flanked by white columns and bridged by a mantel that held dusty candles next to a framed picture of Cord’s family.

She could see the picture was a candid shot taken outside. Sunlight illuminated Cord and his wife and children.

Cord stood with Suzy perched on his hip, her arms wrapped around his shoulder as she leaned away from him, the sun making a halo of her hair. Cord had his other arm draped around the shoulders of a stunningly beautiful woman with wavy blond hair. She in turn had her hand on Paul’s shoulder, her other hand cupped around her pregnant stomach.

Ella turned away, frustrated that the picture so easily evoked memories. Was she ever going to put the past behind her?

Boyce looked at her and frowned as if he had caught the vulnerability she had allowed to slip over her features.

She lifted her chin, determined to push past it all. “I should get back to the cabin and back to work.”

“Thanks for helping with the kids,” Boyce said, his smile warm and friendly. “And I should get going on supper.” Then he groaned, pressing his hand against his lower back.

He looked tired. It couldn’t be easy for him supervising young, active kids at his age. And having to cook.

“What are you making?”

“Cord pulled out some meat. Not sure what to do with it, though.” He shifted some of the dishes around to make room on the stove, looking confused.

“I’m hungry, Grandpa,” Paul complained.

“Me too,” Suzy added. “My tummy hurts.”

“I know. Just give me a bit and I’ll have supper ready.” Boyce gave her an apologetic look. As Ella watched his aimless meanderings, she felt a flash of sympathy for the man.

“Maybe I can help?” she said.

Boyce shot her a look full of gratitude. “That would be great. This is what Cord took out.” Boyce held up a plate of chicken breasts.

“Chicken is pretty basic. Let’s see what we can do with it.”

She dug through the disorganized shelves of the pantry, and found a bottle of Indian butter chicken sauce. Boyce found an onion, and a few minutes later she was sautéing chicken and cooking rice.

As she worked, Ella was surprised at how easy it seemed, working in this kitchen. With these kids.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt an easing of the band of anguish that usually gripped her heart.

* * *

Cord strode up the front walk of the house and grinned when he smelled the mouthwatering scent of butter sauce wafting out the open kitchen windows.

Before he’d left for his meeting, Boyce had offered to make supper, telling him that he could easily manage. Cord was puzzled by the offer but thankful. He hated cooking and the kids usually hated what he made.

He had hoped his father was able to work around the mess in the kitchen. A combination of his own attempts to cook and Boyce’s easygoing work ethic.

He knew he needed to clean up and it had been bugging him for the past few days, but he was swamped with work. Thankfully his in-laws were willing to take Oliver for most of the spring break and with Boyce around, he and the kids could just about manage until school started again. It was strictly stopgap, but it gave him some breathing space until he found a nanny.

He stepped inside the entrance, frustrated at the kids’ shoes tossed around on the floor and the dirt caked on the tiles beneath them. Lisa would have pitched a fit at the sight. Renovating this house had been a project she’d started since they were first married and moved in. He couldn’t begin to count how many hours, days and weeks she spent on Pinterest and consulting with the contractors to bring her vision to life.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/carolyne-aarsen/courting-the-cowboy/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.