Ten Rules for Marrying a Cowboy

by Linda Goodnight

  The Christmas tree and gift pop-up cards were reasonably simple to create and, with kids adding their own creative flourish, each was unique.

  “I’m amazed at how well the community has embraced this project.”

  “That’s Refuge for you,” Rachel said, “and probably why the town thrives instead of dying like so many small towns.”

  “All for one and one for all?” AnnaLeigh joked.

  Rachel plunked a container of crayons in the center of the table. “Refuge loves anything that generates business and draws visitors to town. Valentine’s Dance, Easter Eggstravanza, July Fourth parade to name a few.

  ”And, of course, Christmas?”

  “Of course.” Rachel smiled.

  AnnaLeigh smiled back, grateful to this woman who’d given a stranger an opportunity. If her boss had guessed AnnaLeigh’s condition, she was too considerate to ask. Maybe she was waiting for AnnaLeigh to say something. And AnnaLeigh would. In due time. Due time being the ironically perfect phrase.

  Suddenly, the cowboy was back in her head. Maybe he was the answer to her prayers. Was she the answer to his? He seemed to think so.

  Was she willing to take the chance? And if she didn’t? What then?

  She was content here, working in Rachel’s shop, getting to know the friendly folk in Refuge. She’d made a few acquaintances that she’d hoped would become good friends. She’d even been invited to church, and she considered going.

  Alan lingered in the background, behind the pleasant life she’d found in Refuge, a danger to her baby.

  Unless the cowboy proved to be a maniac real soon, he was her only viable option.

  “AnnaLeigh? AnnaLeigh? Are you okay?”

  AnnaLeigh blinked up at her boss, who stared at her from across the low tables. “Sorry. I was…daydreaming, I guess.”

  She busied herself with the paper punch tools that were popular with scrapbookers. Kids loved punching out their own stars, snowflakes, and other designs to glue on their cards.

  But she could feel her boss’s eyes studying her.

  “Are you feeling bad again, AnnaLeigh? You look really tired today.”

  Her stomach, never far from revolt, threatened. She swallowed. “No, no. I’m okay. I didn’t sleep that well last night.” At least, that much was true. “Let’s get this set up. The kids will be here soon.”

  They both fell to work, and AnnaLeigh felt as if she’d dodged a bullet. She didn’t want Rachel to be suspicious. Not yet.

  Another reason to take the cowboy up on his proposal. The sooner she married, the sooner she could pretend, at least to the outside world, that the baby was his, and Alan would never know.

  Unless the cowboy kicked her out in the street.

  Anxiety knotted her shoulders. She rotated them.

  She was driving herself crazy with the what-ifs and scary scenarios.

  Time to focus on something, anything, else.

  She cast a glance toward the front, where Rachel rang up a customer. The shop increased in business very day. The closer they came to Christmas, the busier they were.

  Rachel’s warm laugh filtered to her ears. The shopkeeper’s serene manner and genuine interest in the customers and their families made them feel welcome and appreciated. Some came daily, often only to chat and drink coffee from the handy little machine in the sitting area Rachel had created to encourage community.

  Besides being smart in business and as warm and sweet as a fresh doughnut, Rachel Tinsley was young and pretty. AnnaLeigh found it interesting that she didn’t date and rarely discussed her personal life. Once, AnnaLeigh had asked where she was from, and Rachel had simply said, “Missouri,” and quickly changed the subject.

  Far be it from AnnaLeigh to pry. She certainly didn’t want anyone prying into her past. Yet, she was curious. Rachel seemed to have her life all together. Composed, lovely, even elegant in dressy, tucked-in blouses and tailored slacks or pencil skirts and exactly the right jewelry, she had taste, class. Today, she’d topped slender gray pants with a white blouse, a maroon scallop-edged cardigan, and heels that must have cost more than AnnaLeigh’s weekly paycheck.

  She and AnnaLeigh were definitely from different worlds.

  The shop emptied, and Rachel returned to the craft area. Small, snowflake-shaped crystal earrings glistened from her earlobes like sunlight on real snow. She was a walking advertisement of jewelry for sale in the shop.

  AnnaLeigh nudged her chin toward the earrings. “How many of those snowflakes have we sold today?”

  “Eleven so far.” Rachel tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind one ear. The snowflake sparkled. “I think they’re a hit.”

  “You were smart to wear them so customers could see how pretty they are.”

  Rachel gently flicked the crystal snowflake, setting it a-shimmer. “The necklace hasn’t sold as well though.”

  AnnaLeigh moved to the tall supply cabinet for craft supplies, talking over her shoulder. “Maybe it’s too pricey for Refuge.”

  “Maybe. But I can see husbands buying it as a special Christmas gift for their wives, can’t you?”

  “A necklace like that would make a romantic gift.” Not that AnnaLeigh cared one whit about romance. Security trumped love any day of the week.

  She took out the container of decorative Christmas tape. The various colors would make cute stripes on the gift pop-up cards they were making today.

  “That’s what I thought when I ordered them,” Rachel said. “Men love to give their wives beautiful things, but when they come in the store, they’re often at a loss.” She laughed softly. “Speaking of clueless men, have you kept up with the online dating cowboy and his mail order bride contract?”

  Heat rush into AnnaLeigh’s cheeks. It was bad enough that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, but now Rachel had to remind her.

  To hide her blush, she turned back to the supply cabinet. “We might need more glitter. These kids do love glitter.”

  As she moved away, thoughts of the cowboy followed.

  Who was he? Was he really the good, hardworking man and loving dad he’d portrayed last night during their messaging?

  Rachel went on talking. “That poor, lonesome cowboy is still on Lovebug, so I guess he hasn’t awakened to the truth. No woman in America is that desperate.”

  Which only showed what Rachel knew.

  AnnaLeigh kept her back turned and pretended to sort through the jars of colored glitter. “Don’t you wonder why he’d take a chance like that? I mean, maybe he has a good reason. Maybe he’s lonely or scared of being hurt or taken advantage of. He could have been jilted before. Perhaps he’s not the best looking guy around, or he’s socially awkward. Maybe he’s hideously scarred from an accident and afraid of being judged for his looks.”

  She’d never considered those things before, but now that she thought of them, they made sense. The cowboy might be as needy and insecure as she was.

  Confident she had her composure, she turned, silver, blue, and gold glitter in hand.

  Rachel paused at the end of the table to give her a strange look. “You’ve given him some serious thought.”

  “Oh, no. Not really.” AnnaLeigh shrugged, mostly to release the tension building in her shoulders again. “I don’t know. The whole thing seems kind of sad to me.”

  “Now that you mention it, you’re right. I feel bad for making fun of him. Not that he’ll ever know.” Rachel laughed. “Nor will he ever find a wife.”

  The bell over the front door chimed. Her boss turned toward the sound of childish laughter. “Kids are here. Ready?”

  AnnaLeigh wiped her hands down the sides of her loose brown dress, relieved by the change of topics. “Let the fun begin.”

  But even as she demonstrated to the eager faces how to fold the strips for the pop-up Christmas tree and worked the room assisting little artists, the mysterious cowboy intruded.

  Was she right in her assessment? Was he physically damaged and fearful? Shy and socially awkward? T
all, short, stocky, thin?

  Her curiosity was getting the best of her. She knew so little about him. Maybe he’d tell her more tonight. A sudden eager anticipation, altogether irrational, stirred in her chest.

  He was kind. At least to his daughter. She already knew that about him. If he was telling the truth about his ranch, he was ambitious and a hard worker.

  “Miss AnnaLeigh, I need help.” A small voice intruded on her thoughts.

  Trying her best to shut out the mysterious cowboy, AnnaLeigh moved toward the three best friends who lined one end of the table. “What’s the trouble, Ellie?”

  “This.” With pure disgust in her tone, the redhead pointed to her card. “It’s ugly. My tree’s all loop-sided.”

  “Loop-sided?” She smiled inwardly at the mispronunciation. “Let’s see what we can do to fix it.”

  The accordion-folded paper strips, which created the tree, had been glued on crookedly. AnnaLeigh gently pushed a couple of them around, glad the glue wasn’t yet dry.

  “There you go. How’s that?” She closed the card and handed it back to the child.

  Ellie opened it. A smile bloomed on her peaches-and-cream face. She looked at AnnaLeigh in awe. “How did you do that? It’s perfect.”

  “You did all the work. I only straightened things a bit.”

  “And now, it’s gonna be beautiful and someone will buy it for a million dollars.”

  “Oh, my.” AnnaLeigh widened her eyes. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  Laughing on the inside and smiling as she went, AnnaLeigh moved down the table, straightening, folding, and giving advice. The children amazed her with the painstaking care they took to create a salable product. Rachel had done a good job teaching them the importance of what they were doing.

  “Clean-up time, kids,” Rachel called from the opening between the two rooms. “Parents are arriving.”

  “Do we have to go already?” Jacey groaned with adorable exaggeration. Her hair, as usual, had fled the lopsided ponytail and hung around her cheeks in light brown strings.

  “I’m not finished with mine yet, Miss AnnaLeigh.” Ava, the blonde princess, blinked up at her with worried blue eyes.

  It was this way every week. A few of the kids shot straight up and rushed for jackets and backpacks, but most groaned and pleaded to stay. The perfectionist Ava always took longer than the others.

  “This is beautiful,” AnnaLeigh said, “and I wouldn’t want you to rush. We’ll finish up next week. Okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you, Miss AnnaLeigh.” Ava handed over the card without complaint but didn’t look too happy about it.

  The trio of girls trudged like prisoners to the guillotine to the drying racks and then cleared away their paper scraps and supplies.

  “Jacey’s dad is here,” Rachel called.

  The cowboy appeared in the doorway, looking rugged in a tan Sherpa-lined coat, boots, and faded jeans. He gripped a gray cowboy hat in one hand. As usual, he appeared uncomfortable.

  But when he spotted his daughter rushing at him, her messy hair flying everywhere, his eyes lit up. He clapped the hat on his head and hunkered down to meet her. Jacey slammed into him full force, and he swooped her into a bear hug, playfully wrestling her side to side. Jacey’s laughter was joy personified.

  AnnaLeigh stared at the sweet moment. It never failed to move her the way the duo embraced as though they’d been apart for months instead of hours.

  But it was only the two of them, the rancher and his daughter. Naturally, they’d be close.

  A tingling sensation raised the hair on her arms.

  Thoughts of the online cowboy intruded.

  Here was a single cowboy raising a little girl on his own. A little girl who’d written a poignant letter to Santa asking for a mom.

  Could he possibly be…?

  No. Impossible. The Lovebug dating site covered the entire country, and the cowboy’s profile had simply requested a bride from anywhere in America. There were thousands of ranchers and cowboys all over the continent, any one of whom could have created that dating profile. Coincidences of that magnitude didn’t occur.

  Jacey’s dad couldn’t be the online cowboy.

  A pleasant kind of tired seeped through Holt’s muscles as he settled his little tumbleweed for the night. He’d worked his tail off today, but now the chores were done and the pregnant cows were in the barns, warm and snug against the cold front moving their direction.

  With Zeke still out with the flu and no one to talk to, he’d had plenty of time to consider last night’s online chat with the prospective mom for Jacey. It had gone pretty well, he thought, but a man never knew for sure what a woman was thinking. She worked in some kind of a store, enjoyed being in the country, and wanted to attend a rodeo. All of those encouraged him that this crazy idea could work out. She’d seemed nice enough, too, if a tone or personality could be determined from a typewritten page.

  Fact of the business, his curiosity was aroused. He hoped she’d show up for the chat tonight. He wasn’t counting on it, but he was hopeful.

  Was she a good person? Sincere about adhering to his rules? Pretty?

  Scratch the last. She didn’t need to be pretty. He didn’t want her to be pretty.

  “Daddy?”

  He jumped, blinked. “What?”

  Lost in thought, he’d completely forgotten where he was. He blinked and pulled himself back into Jacey’s room where a new purple unicorn drawing hung in crooked abandon above her bed. This particular unicorn, he noticed, was clearly a lady with long eyelashes and a flowing yellow mane and glittering pink toenails. Color coordination might not be his daughter’s strongest gifting.

  He lowered himself to the edge of her bed, sitting at an angle to his child.

  “Are we going to say my prayers?” Jacey’s minty toothpaste breath wafted over him as she leaned in close, face tilted up to stare into his. “You’re acting kind of funny.”

  “Sorry, tumbleweed.” He tweaked her ear. The skin was still damp from her bath. She’d been filthy after playing in the barn while he worked. “I’m a little distracted.”

  Man, was he ever. It was as if his office computer were sending out magnetic signals, trying to suck him out of Jacey’s room.

  “Do you got the flu like Zeke’s got?” She rose to her knees on the purple unicorn comforter, at least a dozen stuffed animals surrounding her, five of them unicorns of varying colors and sizes.

  Holt laughed. “Distracted means my mind is thinking about other things tonight.”

  She scrunched up her cute nose. The three freckles meshed into one. “What kind of other things?”

  He picked up Rosey and used the stuffed toy to tickle her beneath the chin. “Things like your Christmas presents.”

  One present in particular.

  His belly jittered. This was nuts with a capital N.

  His tiny cowgirl giggled, green eyes widening. “You’re thinking about my new mommy?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  She took Rosey from him and clutched the toy to her heart. “Because I want one so bad. Badder than anything ever in this life. I told Ellie to ask her mama if she wanted to marry us.”

  “Jacey! No. You didn’t.” Oh, the humiliation a six-year-old could generate.

  “Yup.” Her head bobbed. “Ellie thought it was a great idea, but her mama said no.”

  Ouch. Double humiliation.

  “She did?” He must be losing every bit of cowboy charisma he’d ever had. Either that or his gold buckles had blinded the ladies during his rodeo days so much that they’d focused on them instead of him.

  If that didn’t shoot a man’s ego all to bits, he wasn’t much of a man.

  “Yup. Miss Dakota said she’s never, ever getting married. ‘Cause men stink.”

  Holt snorted. Dakota Lockhart must have had her own bad experiences.

  “I don’t think you stink, Daddy.” Jacey leaned close again and took a long sniff. “Sometimes in the barn you smell f
unny, but not now. You smell real good.”

  “Showers work wonders, kid. Now, let’s hit our knees and thank Jesus for taking such good care of us.”

  “Okay.” With childlike confidence, Jacey, Rosey in tow, dropped down beside her bed and went through her litany of thanks and blesses. “And make Zeke’s flu go away, so he can come to work. Amen.”

  “Amen to that.” Holt was worn to a nub from handling all the farm labor plus the training himself. Zeke was more valuable than he’d realized. The man deserved a fat Christmas bonus.

  Once Jacey was settled snugly into bed, comforter up to her chin, Rosey curled into one elbow, and a kiss on her forehead, he headed to his office, hoping the woman, whatever her name was, would log on at eight as promised.

  He checked the time icon in the corner of the screen. “Five after.”

  Suddenly nervous as if this were a date, and he guessed it sort of was, he logged in.

  Nothing.

  He stared at the screen for five more minutes. Still nothing.

  She’d dumped him. Already.

  Zeke was wrong. Online dating was hard on the ego.

  However, she could have gotten busy at work and was running late. Except he didn’t know how late her shop stayed open. She’d worked overtime the night before.

  Or she could live in a big city. Rush-hour traffic was a nightmare.

  Rush hour had long passed. Except on the west coast. Maybe she was in California. If so, her time zone would be different than his.

  Holt scrubbed his hands over his face. This was ridiculous. No use sitting here staring at an empty chat box.

  He pushed back in the chair and rose. The computer tinged.

  With a leap of pulse, he grabbed for the mouse, attempting a graceful slide onto the chair. He failed with a capital F.

  The chair tumbled backward. Holt went to one knee, all the while maintaining a grip on the mouse. He clicked, and at the same time, righted the chair with one booted foot. He slid onto the seat. A feat fit for a champion bull rider.

  He grinned to himself. He still had it—the quickness, the balance, the skill. Even if his “bull” was nothing but a rolling office chair.