Her Kind of Cowboy

by Charlotte Douglas

  “Did the techs find any ID on the body?” Ethan asked.

  “Some clothing fragments. That’s it.”

  “Any idea how the person died?” Ethan asked.

  Lucas hesitated.

  “You might as well tell us,” Caroline said. “We’ll find out eventually.”

  Lucas took in a deep breath and let it out. “Blunt force trauma. The skull was caved in.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BY THE TIME Caroline and Ethan had eaten a late lunch and finished going through the ledgers, it was after three o’clock. Ethan headed back to Orchard Cottage, and Caroline grabbed her purse and car keys and climbed into her car for a trip into town.

  Driving down the lane toward the highway, she noted that the blackberries growing wild along the meandering split-rail fence would be ripe next week. The sight of the plump berries generated a pang of loss at memories of summer days spent in Eileen’s big kitchen, helping her friend make jams and jellies that Eileen, wearing a big straw hat and a broader smile, sold at a roadside stand at the entrance to the farm.

  At the highway, Caroline turned left toward town and drove along the road that followed the twists and turns of the Piedmont River on its rush through the valley over rock-strewn beds. Weeping willows lined the riverbanks, their delicate branches in full leaf dipping toward the water. On either side of the river, rolling hills, covered by pastures and corn crops, lifted toward the mountains that surrounded Pleasant Valley like the sides of a bowl. Black-eyed Susans filled the meadows, their cheerful yellow a pleasant contrast to the abundant green of the grasses, trees and distant ridges.

  Caroline loved the valley. Leaving it would be hard. It held a special peace and beauty in every season. But as much as she loved the land, its people and the sense of belonging in a place her ancestors had settled three hundred years ago, something was missing. She hoped moving from the only locale she’d ever known would help her find the elusive pieces needed to make her life complete.

  She sped past the entrance to Grant and Merrilee’s house on the left, then the drive to River Walk on the right. Around the next curve was the veterinary clinic where Grant and his father-in-law, Jim Stratton, cared for the valley’s farm animals and family pets.

  The highway was so familiar, she could have driven it in her sleep—a good thing, since her concentration was fractured, divided between Ethan Garrison, who’d taken residence in her thoughts with all the persistence of an itch she couldn’t scratch, and her overriding concern of finding a family for Hannah.

  By the time she reached downtown, Piedmont Avenue, the main thoroughfare, was almost deserted. Area farmers came to town early for their Saturday shopping. Now only a few cars remained in the parking lot at Blalock’s Grocery, and Tom Fulton had already placed the “closed” sign in the front door of the department store.

  She drove to the far end of Piedmont Avenue, dropped off the list of Eileen’s former tenants at the police department, and turned back toward town. The Hair Apparent, down the street from Jodie’s café, was closed, too, but Caroline knew where she’d find Amy Lou. She climbed the exterior staircase to the apartment above the beauty shop and knocked on the door.

  Amy Lou Baker, still dressed in her pink polyester pantsuit, her standard uniform, opened the door. Her feet, however, were bare. Caroline couldn’t remember ever seeing the beautician without her sensible white shoes. The woman still looked exactly as she had when Agnes first brought eight-year-old Caroline to the new shop to have her hair styled. Today, Amy Lou sported the same explosion of teased honey blond hair and a wide, welcoming smile. Only the additional lines in her face attested to the passing years.

  “Caroline! I didn’t forget an appointment, did I, sugar?”

  Caroline shook her head. “I need your help, Amy Lou.”

  Amy Lou opened the door wide and motioned her inside. Caroline glanced around with interest. She’d never seen Amy Lou’s apartment. Like its owner, it was decked out in pink, from the thick shag carpet to the draperies and upholstery. And every surface was covered with knickknacks and handcrafted items. Amy Lou lifted a crocheted afghan still under construction from the sofa and motioned for Caroline to sit. With a hobbling gait, as if her feet hurt, Amy Lou ambled to a nearby chair, lowered herself with a whoosh of relief, and propped her feet on a footstool.

  “How can I help you, sugar? Your mama giving you a hard time about moving?”

  “No more than I expected,” Caroline said with a rueful smile.

  Amy Lou, true to form, was up on all the latest town news. The Hair Apparent served as communications central for Pleasant Valley. Every tidbit of gossip concerning the town and valley either originated or was disseminated within the shop’s pale pink walls. Caroline’s mother, during her weekly appointment, had probably bent Amy Lou’s ears about her ungrateful daughter.

  Amy Lou crossed her swollen ankles and pursed her lips. “Then it must be that firefighter from Baltimore.”

  Caroline shook her head. “He’s just a tenant and no problem.”

  Maybe if she kept saying the words, she’d eventually come to believe them herself and get to a point where she could think of Ethan without her heart beating a little faster. Between inheriting the farm and Hannah, the last thing she needed was a man to further complicate her life.

  And where men were concerned, Caroline admitted she was gun-shy. In spite of the happy marriages of her friends, she was well aware that love carried risks and penalties. Look at her mother, so reliant on her husband for everything that her life had fallen apart when he died. As a result of her mother’s example, Caroline recognized her hunger for wide-open spaces for what it was: a yearning for independence, freedom and the ability to make her own choices. No man, no matter how perfect, no matter how kind or easy on the eyes, would deter her from those goals. She refused to yield her self-determination to any man, not even a man as attractive and endearing as Ethan Garrison.

  “No problem?” Amy Lou was still raving about Ethan. “Sugar, that’s not how I heard it. I haven’t seen the man myself, but those who have claim he’s a problem for every living, breathing female who lays eyes on him. Flat out takes their breath away with those big sad eyes. You’re a lucky girl, sharing two meals a day with Mr. Right.”

  “I’m not looking for Mr. Right.”

  “Don’t need to, do you,” she said with a grin, “with him living under your very nose.” Her expression sobered. “Where are my manners? Would you like a glass of tea?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  Amy Lou sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Probably just as well. After being on my feet all day, I don’t know if these old dogs would make it to the kitchen and back. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  Amy Lou looked weary, and her usual effervescence had faded. The woman obviously worked too hard. How could Caroline ask her to take on the care of a nine-year-old? On the other hand, maybe Hannah would be a help and comfort to Amy Lou, who’d been widowed for years.

  “How come you’re not looking for Mr. Right?” Caroline asked. “Harold’s been gone a long time. Don’t you get lonely?”

  Amy Lou cocked her head, pursed her lips, and studied Caroline with an intensity that made her want to squirm. “What’s on your mind, sugar? I know you’re not here to fix me up with a date with your handsome firefighter. Those May-December relationships rarely work.”

  Caroline smiled. “In your case, it would be more like May-August.”

 
“But that’s not why you’re here.”

  Caroline shook her head. “I’m here about Hannah.”

  “Daniel’s little sister? I heard she’s coming on Monday. If she’s half as nice as that brother of hers, she’ll be a sweetheart.”

  “I’m sure she will be.” Encouraged by Amy Lou’s attitude, Caroline plunged ahead. “And I’m looking for a foster family for her.”

  Amy Lou looked surprised. “I thought you were taking her.”

  Caroline stifled guilty feelings. “I’m selling Blackberry Farm as soon as possible, and I’m hoping to find a permanent place for Hannah before she arrives.”

  Amy Lou’s friendly face reflected her surprise. “And you were thinking I’d take her?”

  “You’re wonderful with people. Especially children. I remember how good you were to me the first time I came to your shop.”

  “Cutting a child’s hair is one thing,” Amy Lou said with a shake of her teased and lacquered hairdo. “Raising one up in the way she should go is another thing entirely.”

  “You’d make a wonderful foster mother.”

  Amy Lou’s bright eyes took on the dreamy look of remembrance. “Harold and I tried to have babies. But it wasn’t meant to be. And now, sugar, I’m too old, too tired, too set in my ways. I can hardly drag my weary bones up those stairs at the end of a day. What would I do with an active nine-year-old?”

  Disappointment washed through Caroline. Amy Lou had been her best chance of placing Hannah by Monday. “You know everything that goes on in the valley. Can you think of any family who would take in Hannah and give her a good home?”

  Amy Lou furrowed her brow. “Give me a minute.”

  “What about Merrilee’s parents?”

  “Jim and Cat Stratton? They’d make great foster parents.” Caroline’s surge of hope was short-lived as Amy Lou added, “But they’re leaving Monday for a trans-Canada railway trip. A second honeymoon they’ve been planning since last summer. They’ll be gone a month.”

  Caroline’s hope to have Hannah settled in a permanent home on Monday so the child wouldn’t have to move again vanished. “Gofer says he’s tried everyone. Only Eileen was willing to take Hannah, and now she’s passed her on to me.”

  Amy Lou threaded her fingers together, rested them on her plump midriff, and raised her eyebrows. “You ever stop to think that your having Hannah was meant to be?”

  “What’s meant to be is that I find a nice little place in New Mexico, out west where I’ve always wanted to live,” Caroline said in frustration.

  “You know what they say.” Amy Lou’s eyes twinkled. “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.”

  Caroline forced a smile. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  * * *

  AFTER A LATE SUPPER that evening, Ethan helped Caroline clear the table. Their meal had been a silent one, with Caroline deep in thought over how to deal with Hannah. The child would arrive on Monday, and Caroline didn’t want the little girl to become too attached to Blackberry Farm, since her stay would be only temporary. At the same time, she wanted Hannah to feel welcome, wanted and safe.

  How had she managed to land herself in such a conundrum?

  “That was terrific spinach lasagna.” Ethan’s deep voice broke into her thoughts.

  She took a moment to orient herself, like someone breaking the surface after a deep dive. “Eileen made it. She left it in the freezer.”

  Caroline pushed back from the table, took the half-empty casserole dish and covered the leftover pasta with plastic wrap. She placed it in the refrigerator, and Ethan emptied ice from the tea glasses into the sink and put them in the dishwasher. She hadn’t asked for his help. He’d simply assumed the tasks, as easily as if they were an old married couple who’d cleaned up together for years. He hadn’t complained when she hadn’t talked at supper, hadn’t tried to force conversation. He’d simply been there, comfortable and easy with the silence. Earlier, she’d been lost in thoughts of Hannah, but now Ethan—with his quiet, helpful manner, his movements, graceful and efficient for such a big man—occupied her mind.

  “Mr. Right,” Amy Lou had called him. From what Caroline had observed, the title was apt. The man had no obvious faults, unless she counted too agreeable, too helpful, too good-looking in his own rugged way. But also he was too filled with pain from some past trauma that she guessed was related to the burns on his hands and his sabbatical from the fire department.

  The more time she spent with him, the more appealing he seemed. Not that he was coming on to her. Any overt moves would have been like a splash of cold water, enough to turn her off to his charms. No, the man was just an all-around nice guy who was inching his way into her life and heart so subtly that if she wasn’t careful, one day she’d wake up and wham! She’d be a goner.

  How had her life become so complicated in less than a week? She’d lost her friend, inherited a farm, left home for the first time, become a reluctant foster mother, and met a man. She should have been careful what she’d wished for when she was dying of boredom at the B and B.

  “Guess where I went this afternoon?” Ethan’s smooth voice again shattered her thoughts.

  “I give up.”

  “Archer Farm.”

  “Did Jeff give you the tour?”

  Ethan shook his head and leaned against the counter while she loaded plates in the washer. “I didn’t go to see the place. I went to see Daniel.”

  “Daniel? Were you trying to line up some help with your renovations at Orchard Cottage?”

  “No, but that’s a good idea. I wanted to talk to him about his sister. He’s really glad she’ll be living with you.”

  Caroline wished she shared the teen’s enthusiasm. As much as she liked Daniel, as much as she wanted Hannah to have a loving home, she didn’t want to be pinned down in the valley.

  “How about driving to Walhalla with me tomorrow?” Ethan said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “There’s a Wal-Mart there. It’ll have everything we need.”

  “For what?”

  “For Hannah. If we go first thing, we can get back and have her room ready by Monday.”

  Caroline closed the door to the dishwasher and turned to face him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yellow.” Ethan’s face glowed with a boyish enthusiasm that only added to his attractiveness.

  “What?”

  “Hannah’s favorite color. Daniel told me. If I buy the paint tomorrow morning, I can paint tomorrow afternoon. I thought you might want to pick out a matching bedspread and some curtains. I’ll pay for them,” he added quickly.

  “You haven’t settled into your own place yet. Don’t you want to paint there first?”

  Now how was she supposed to resist a man so considerate of a little girl’s feelings?

  “I chose to come to Orchard Cottage.” His eyes lost their playfulness and seemed to bore straight through her. “And I’m an adult. Delayed gratification, I believe, is one of the prerequisites of being a grownup. Hannah, however, is a kid who didn’t have a choice. Wouldn’t it be great to have a beautiful room in her favorite color waiting for her? To let her know you’re glad she’s here?”

  Ethan’s compassion made Caroline feel small by comparison. She’d considered Hannah’s feelings, trying to find a permanent place so the girl wouldn’t have to move again. But had Caroline’s efforts been on Hannah’s behalf or in her own self-interest?
>
  Ethan was right. Hannah needed to feel welcomed and loved and special, no matter how long or short her stay at Blackberry Farm. If fixing up her room helped, then Caroline was all for it.

  “If we leave at eight,” she said, “we can be at Wal-Mart before the weekend crowds descend. But, since it’s my house, I’ll pay for the paint and fabrics. Your offer to paint, however, is gratefully accepted. I always get more paint on me than on whatever I’m painting.”

  She had her back to the counter with no room to maneuver. Ethan stepped closer and grasped her shoulders lightly. His hazel eyes warmed. She tried, but couldn’t look away.

  He slowly grasped her hands and pulled her close. “You’re a good woman, Caroline Tuttle.”

  She shook her head. “I’m a selfish woman.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. I doubt there’s a selfish bone in your body.”

  She had to keep talking, afraid of what might happen if she stopped, but his proximity was making her dizzy. She grappled for words. “Hannah puts a crimp in my plans.”

  “If you were selfish, you’d flat out refuse to take her. Eileen knew your heart or she wouldn’t have asked you to look after Hannah.”

  Only a small space separated them. She tried to think of something else—piñon pines and coyotes howling at the moon above the high desert. But her western fantasies evaporated like mist in sunlight next to the reality of Ethan’s large, strong hands holding hers.

  She shook her head and tried to step back, but the counter blocked her. “I am selfish. You’re the one who thought of what Hannah needs, not me.”

  “Not selfish. Just human.” He didn’t loosen his grip on her hands or break his gaze. “You’ve dedicated your adult life to your widowed mother, and you were such a good friend to Eileen that she left you everything. Those aren’t selfish acts in my book.”

  “But all I want now is to get away.”