Her Kind of Cowboy

by Charlotte Douglas

  Before he could frame a solution to his dilemma, the door that led to the kitchen swung open, and Caroline, carrying a serving tray, entered the dining room. With her cheeks flushed from cooking, her blond hair gleaming in the morning sun, and a light blue denim apron embroidered with Tuttle’s Bed and Breakfast covering her pale green shorts and shirt, she looked even prettier than when he’d found her yesterday, dozing in the backyard.

  Bedazzled by her smile, Ethan imagined seeing such a vision every day, and the contemplation robbed him of breath.

  “Sleep well?” Caroline set a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage and fluffy grits in front of him, then placed a basket of warm muffins at his elbow.

  “You bet. Must be the peace and quiet. I’m used to city noises.”

  A closer look revealed faint shadows beneath her eyes, and a slight tremor in the hand that served his orange juice. Caroline, from the looks of her, hadn’t rested well.

  “Why don’t you join me?” he asked. “I hate to eat alone.”

  Actually, lately he’d preferred his own company, but his time at the B and B was limited, and he didn’t want to lose the chance to learn more about Caroline Tuttle.

  His mother would be pleased.

  “What you need, Ethan Garrison, is a nice girl. Settle down. Have children,” had been her mantra for the last ten years. After Jerry’s death, her not-so-subtle suggestions had turned to almost frantic pleas. “I’m not getting any younger. I’d like to know my grandchildren before I die.”

  “You wouldn’t want me to marry a woman I don’t love,” Ethan had countered, “just to give you grandkids.”

  “Of course not.” His mother had set her pleasant face in a pout. “But the right woman’s out there, just waiting for you to come along.”

  “And how will I know when I’ve found her?” His question had been more teasing than serious. “Far as I’m aware, even a state-of-the-art GPS is no help in locating a prospective wife.”

  “You’ll know,” his mother had insisted in poetic terms contrary to her practical nature. “Her name will sing in your soul and you won’t be able to think of anything but her.”

  Ethan had laughed and called his mom a hopeless romantic, but watching Caroline pour herself a cup of coffee and take a seat across from him, he was beginning to understand what his mother had meant.

  He buttered a warm muffin, took a bite and grinned at the burst of flavors.

  “Good, huh?” Caroline said with a smile that made him want to rise from his chair and kiss her.

  “So good I’d be willing to marry the woman who baked these.”

  Caroline laughed. “You’d have to fight off her husband first. And as a former Marine, he’d be tough to beat, even for you.”

  “You didn’t bake these?”

  She shook her head. “Jodie at the café. They’re her specialty.”

  “What’s your specialty?”

  Caroline nodded toward his plate. “I wish I had a dollar for every breakfast I’ve cooked the past fifteen years.”

  “And what would you do with all that cash?”

  “Buy a horse.”

  He almost choked on his grits. “A horse?”

  She nodded and her brilliant blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the tall east windows. “I’ve always wanted to learn to ride.”

  Caroline was nothing if not full of surprises. Most women he’d met would have wished for jewelry, designer clothes or a trip to some exotic locale. But horseback riding?

  With his time with Caroline growing short, Ethan decided to take a chance. He’d never ridden a horse, but if climbing onto the back of an unfamiliar animal was what it took to make headway with the woman who captured his imagination, he’d gladly make a fool of himself. “Go riding with me today.”

  She considered him with a cool stare over the rim of her coffee cup. “You’re not serious.”

  “Why not? I have a couple of days to kill. So why not spend one of them horseback riding?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Have you ridden much?”

  “Never,” he admitted. “But there’s always a first time.”

  She shook her head, but whether in astonishment or refusal, he couldn’t tell.

  “Is that a no?”

  “That is most definitely a no.” A slight smile softened her rejection.

  “Because your mama warned you not to take up with strangers?”

  “Because, one, there’s no place to ride horses within a hundred miles, and, two, I have…arrangements to make.”

  “Your friend?”

  She nodded and her smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful expression that dimmed the light in her eyes.

  His opportunity was sliding away, slipping from his grasp, and he couldn’t think of a damned thing to stop it. “I’m sorry.”

  She pressed her lips together as if fighting back tears and pushed away from the table, taking her coffee cup with her. In a moment, the kitchen door closed behind her, leaving Ethan alone to finish his breakfast and contemplate his next move. He’d be leaving tomorrow, and he was running out of time.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, after a funeral attended by more than half the town and families from the outlying farms, Eileen Bickerstaff was laid to rest behind the Pleasant Valley Community Church in a cemetery plot on a rolling hill that overlooked the Piedmont River and far mountains. At the end of the service, Rand and Brynn Benedict invited the mourners to their home at River Walk for lunch.

  River Walk, an impressive multistory log mansion with multiple decks that descended to the river, was the perfect spot for a crowd. Teenage boys from Archer Farm directed arriving guests to parking spots and to the buffet, catered by Jodie and set up on the largest deck beneath the shade of spreading oaks. Conversations centered on Eileen and the impact her life had made on so many people in the valley.

  Caroline, wearing a sleeveless black linen dress, helped Jodie serve. Amy Lou Baker, beautician at the Hair Apparent, and Jay-Jay, the mechanic from the garage, heaped their plates and moved away to find a seat at one of the many tables Rand had rented for the event.

  “Eileen was an angel,” Jodie said during a lull in the buffet line. “When I was unmarried and pregnant with Brittany, an anonymous benefactor gave my parents a thousand dollars to help with my expenses. I didn’t know until Rand told me yesterday that the gift came from Eileen.”

  Caroline nodded. “From the snippets of conversation I’ve heard this morning, she showed that same generosity to lots of others in the valley, too. She was a good neighbor and a good friend.”

  “Speaking of good friends—” Merrilee Nathan approached the buffet table “—do you two need any help?”

  With her blue eyes and blond hair, Merrilee could have been Caroline’s twin, except where Caroline was tall and willowy, Merrilee was full-figured and petite.

  Jodie shook her head at Merrilee’s offer. “Thanks, but almost everyone’s been served. Why don’t we fill our plates and find a table?”

  Brynn left a group she’d been talking to across the deck and joined them. Her simple black dress set off her figure and complemented her deep auburn hair. When Brynn had been a cop and single, men in the valley had been known to break the speed limit, just to be pulled over by the attractive officer.

  “Whenever I see you three together,” Brynn said, “I figure some kind of mischief’s being hatched.”

  “Nothing yet,” Caroline said with
a smile, “but maybe you’ll help us think of something. Where’s Jared?”

  After their wedding last fall, Brynn and Rand had adopted his orphaned nephew, now an adorable if somewhat tyrannical three-year-old.

  “Lillian’s taking care of Jared along with Merrilee’s daughter in the guest house,” Brynn explained. Lillian was the Benedicts’ housekeeper and nanny. “So that gives the four of us time to catch up.”

  Caroline settled at a table in a shady corner of the deck. Brynn, Merrilee and Jodie joined her.

  “So,” Brynn said, “what’s happening in town?”

  “What,” Merrilee asked, “no new lawyer jokes?”

  “The joke’s on her,” Jodie grinned, “marrying an attorney after all those years of lawyer-bashing.”

  Caroline glanced at each of her friends. “Marriage seems to agree with all of you.”

  “I highly recommend it.” Jodie dug into her potato salad.

  Caroline shrugged. “Not that I’m looking, but where would I find a husband in Pleasant Valley if I was?”

  “How about right under your nose?” Brynn asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Caroline toyed with the food on her plate. As delicious as it was, she’d lost her appetite when Eileen died.

  “Don’t you have a current guest?” Brynn said.

  Jodie and Merrilee were looking at Caroline with expectation.

  “He’s leaving today,” Caroline said. “In fact, he’s probably already gone. Besides, how did you know about him?”

  “I was a cop for eight years,” Brynn said, “trained to observe. So when I noticed a handsome stranger wandering around town and later filling the tank of his pickup at Jay-Jay’s, I made a few inquiries.”

  “But you’re married,” Caroline said.

  “Married,” Merrilee said with a giggle, “but obviously not blind.”

  “And still a cop at heart,” Jodie added. “What else did you discover about Caroline’s gorgeous house guest?”

  “Maryland plates on his vehicle,” Brynn said. “Pleasant but reserved with everyone he met in town. Didn’t wear a wedding ring. Then I had to pick up Jared at day care, so my investigation was terminated.”

  “Well?” Jodie looked at Caroline and raised her eyebrows. “Tell us more.”

  “Nothing more to tell. He only stopped in the valley until the van with his furniture caught up with him. He’s moving to Baltimore.”

  “Too bad,” Brynn said. “I liked him.”

  “How could you?” Caroline asked in surprise. She’d drawn the same conclusion but wasn’t about to admit it. “You didn’t even meet him.”

  “Cop’s intuition,” Brynn said. “He was one of the good guys.”

  “And now he’s gone,” Caroline said in a tone that she hoped ended the conversation. She rose to her feet. “And I have to go, too.”

  “Don’t leave yet,” Merrilee said. “Between families and work, the four of us haven’t had a chance to talk in ages.”

  Caroline tossed her a regretful smile. “Wish I could stay, but Eileen has a tenant arriving at Orchard Cottage tomorrow, and I promised Rand I’d check today to make sure everything’s ready.”

  * * *

  AFTER SETTING A DATE for a girls’ night out with her friends, Caroline had climbed into her old Camry for the short ride up Valley Road to the turnoff to Blackberry Farm.

  Brambles, thick with almost ripe blackberries, draped the split-rail fence that lined the road to the main farmhouse. Caroline slowed as she passed the old homestead, half expecting Eileen to appear on the wide front porch with a wave of welcome. The road forked just past the house, and Caroline took the left branch, a narrow red dirt road overgrown with weeds, that led to Orchard Cottage.

  She parked her car in front of a picket fence in desperate need of paint and eyed the property with dismay. Eileen’s tenant needed to be more than an artist. He needed to be a miracle worker. Or at least a licensed contractor, if he expected to live here. Between the sagging porch floor and missing shingles on the roof, the tiny house appeared dilapidated and sad. Caroline doubted even a good cleaning would make it presentable.

  But the property was hers now, and she was embarrassed to have anyone, much less a paying tenant, view it in its present state. With a sigh of resignation, she removed a change of clothes and her bucket of cleaning materials from the car and trudged up the front walk.

  * * *

  THREE HOURS LATER, the cottage was still derelict but clean. She had swept the floors, cleared cobwebs and scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom fixtures. She’d even washed the windows that overlooked the porch. With an ancient scythe from the barn, she’d cleared the foot-high weeds from the front yard. In an effort to make the place more welcoming, she’d filled old mason jars from the kitchen cupboard with Queen Anne’s lace from the roadside and roses from the rambling bushes that grew along the fence. She placed the containers of lacy white flowers and deep red blooms on the kitchen counter and the living room windowsills. But not even the roses’ cheerful color could distract from the cottage’s glaring shortcomings. Caroline wondered if the poor condition of the house would be a lease-breaker. If so, the departure of her tenant would take care of one of her obligations to Eileen.

  Which would still leave Caroline with the problem of what to do with little Hannah. She’d have to find just the right people to love and nurture a child who’d lost her mother.

  Loading her cleaning supplies into the trunk of her car, Caroline heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle. She slammed the trunk lid and turned to see a pickup truck kicking up dust on the red dirt road. Sunlight glinted off the windshield, obscuring the driver from view. She didn’t recognize the truck. It didn’t belong to the Mauneys, who operated the neighboring dairy farm. Uneasiness gripped her, alone with a stranger approaching, and she headed for her car, thinking it better to be locked inside and behind the wheel with the engine running for a quick getaway when confronted by someone she didn’t know.

  The truck parked behind her car, and in the rearview mirror, she watched the driver’s door open. First one leg swung out, clad in jeans and a work boot. Then the other leg appeared, and the driver jumped out. She recognized the Western hero of her daydreams, with his tall figure and broad shoulders silhouetted against the setting sun.

  No longer afraid, she shut off the motor and climbed from her car to confront him.

  “You?” he said in surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Caroline’s astonishment mirrored the newcomer’s. “What are you doing here?”

  “I stopped at the house,” Ethan Garrison said, “but Mrs. Bickerstaff isn’t home. I’m her new tenant.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “YOU’RE A FIREFIGHTER.” Caroline’s eyes squinted with suspicion.

  “What’s firefighting got to do with anything?” Ethan was trying to figure out why Caroline Tuttle was waiting at his new residence.

  “I was expecting an artist.”

  Ethan’s confusion grew. “Where’s Eileen?”

  Dismay flashed across her features. “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Are you a friend of Eileen’s?”

  “You might say that.”

  “What kind of friend? I never heard her mention you.” Disbelief tinged her expression and her voice.

  Ethan removed his ball cap and combed his fingers through his hair. “I met Eileen several months ago in an online chat room.”


  The chat room was a support group for post-traumatic stress disorder patients, but for now, that was his secret. As in AA, members kept their identities and all that was said in the online meetings confidential.

  “Eileen and I,” he continued, “have corresponded regularly since then. And we’ve talked several times recently by phone. That’s how I set up the lease for this place. Eileen mailed me the papers.”

  “Oh, dear.” Caroline, her pretty face crumpled with distress, shook her head. “I had no idea or I’d have told you that first day.”

  “Told me what?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Out of town?”

  “She’s my friend, the one who—” Caroline struggled for words.

  Ethan finally put the pieces together. “The one who died?”

  Caroline nodded. “I just came from her funeral a few hours ago.”

  He shook his head in bewilderment. “But that’s not possible.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You told me that your friend who died was old.”

  “Eileen was ninety-eight.”

  Stricken with sorrow and a sense of loss, Ethan sank onto the running board of his pickup. “I had no idea. She sounded so much younger in her postings and on the phone. So…alive.”

  Caroline smiled through her sadness. “That was Eileen in a nutshell.”

  Ethan had known that Eileen was a widow and a good bit older than he was, but he’d never guessed that she was in her nineties. When he’d confided to the support group that he needed to get away from Baltimore to try to put his life back together, she’d offered to rent her cottage with a promise of as much peace and quiet as he wanted. And she’d been savvy as well as generous. Fearing that he’d withdraw into a shell in the isolation of Orchard Cottage, she’d insisted that he share meals with her. She’d made the demand under the guise of needing company, but he’d known better. Eileen Bickerstaff had seemed too self-sufficient to need anyone.