Her Kind of Cowboy

by Charlotte Douglas

  If it weren’t for Hannah, Caroline feared she would have lost her mind entirely. Only keeping busy kept her sane. Working together in the kitchen, they had made enough jelly to stock the roadside stand, and for the past two days, sales had been brisk along Valley Road. Last night, Hannah had counted the profits and put them aside in her pony fund. Although Caroline had assured the girl it might take years to raise the money for a pony, Hannah had insisted she’d keep saving until she had enough.

  In the late afternoon of the third day of Ethan’s mysterious avoidance, Caroline and Hannah had closed and locked the shutters on the stand, taken the cash box, and were walking up the drive toward the farm.

  “That Mr. Trace sure bought a lot of jelly,” Hannah said. “A whole boxful of jars. He almost doubled my pony fund.”

  “He has a lot of boys to feed at Archer Farm,” Caroline said. “And now Daniel will be enjoying the jelly you made. How about that?”

  “I’m glad. Daniel’s a good brother.”

  “He’s an excellent brother. You’re very lucky to have him.”

  “Do you have any brothers?”

  Caroline shook her head.

  “Sisters?”

  “No, just me.”

  “But you have a mommy.” Hannah’s tone was wistful. “Will I ever have a new mommy?”

  The sound of a horn on the road behind them saved Caroline from answering. She turned to see Ethan’s truck approaching, pulling a trailer.

  A horse trailer.

  Caroline’s pulse raced, her mouth went dry, and she expected Ethan to drive by as he’d done the past three days. He surprised her by stopping beside them and hopping out of the cab. His face glowed with excitement, like a kid’s at Christmas. Just seeing him kick-started Caroline’s heartbeat to a gallop, reminding her how much she’d wanted to see him.

  “Hey, good-looking ladies,” he said with a grin. “Glad I ran into you. I have a special delivery for Hannah.”

  “For me?” Hannah said. “What is it?”

  Ethan couldn’t have looked more pleased with himself if he’d won the lottery. “You’ll see in a minute. But first, I want both of you to close your eyes.”

  Caroline, hoping her guess was wrong and that he’d borrowed a horse trailer to haul supplies, shot him a warning glance. Beside her, Hannah squeezed her eyes shut.

  “No fair peeking,” Ethan warned, and Caroline closed her eyes.

  She heard his footsteps on the gravel as he walked to the rear of the trailer. She noted the metallic squeal of the hinges as a door opened and flinched at the bump of a lowering ramp. Next came the unmistakable clop of hooves and a soft whinny. She opened her eyes to watch him lead a tiny Shetland pony around the back of the trailer toward Hannah.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.

  Ethan shook his head. “Open your eyes, Hannah.”

  Hannah took one look at the pony, and her jaw dropped. “Is it really for me?”

  “All yours, ladybug,” Ethan said. “Special delivery all the way from Georgia.”

  “A pony for me?” Hannah repeated breathlessly. “Oh, thank you, Ethan.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  “You bought a horse in Georgia?” Caroline was flabbergasted.

  “Not a horse, a pony. And I didn’t buy it. Grant Nathan helped me rescue it through the ASPCA.”

  Hannah, oblivious to their conversation, had thrown one arm around the pony’s neck and was stroking its muzzle.

  “Rescued?” Caroline knew Grant had been active in dog rescues, but she hadn’t realized people also rescued horses.

  “The previous owners abandoned it,” Ethan explained. “If it hadn’t found a new home,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “it would have been put down.”

  She didn’t know whether to smack him or kiss him. A pony fulfilled Hannah’s wildest dream, but… “We know nothing about taking care of a pony.”

  “Not to worry,” Ethan promised breezily. “Grant sent along everything you’ll need, including books. They’re in my truck.”

  In spite of her exasperation, Caroline couldn’t help smiling. “Like a car’s owner’s manual? I can never make heads nor tails of those.”

  “Identifying the head and tail is the easy part,” Ethan said, so reasonably she wanted to grind her teeth. “And Grant said to call him or Dr. Stratton if you have any questions or problems. No charge for Miss Hannah. And I’ll clean out a stall in your barn to make a place for it, as soon as I return Grant’s trailer.”

  Caroline wanted to tell him to take the pony back, that she didn’t need the complication of an animal to care for, but seeing the adoration and contentment on Hannah’s face froze the words in her throat. Reluctantly accepting that she now had a pony as well as a foster daughter, Caroline sighed. “We can’t keep calling it it. The pony needs a name.”

  “That’s Hannah’s department. Your pony needs a name, ladybug. What do you want to call it?”

  Hannah gazed deep into the pony’s eyes, rimmed with lighter hair that made it appear to be wearing glasses. She thought for a moment, then looked back to Ethan and Caroline.

  “Well,” Caroline said with gentle encouragement. “Do you have an idea for a name?”

  Hannah nodded solemnly.

  “Want to share?” Ethan prodded.

  Hannah’s grave expression lifted in a dazzling smile, and, miracle of miracles, she giggled. “Can I really name him anything I want?”

  “Anything,” Caroline promised, especially if it made the child laugh.

  “Then I want to call him Harry Trotter.”

  Ethan and Caroline burst out laughing at the play on words, and Hannah joined in.

  “I can’t believe it,” the girl said. “It’s like magic. My very own pony. Thank you, Ethan.”

  “You can thank me best,” he said, “by taking very good care of Harry, so he doesn’t cause extra work for Caroline.”

  “I promise.” Hannah, obviously in love, flung her arms around the pony’s neck. “Can I ride him?”

  “Not yet,” Caroline said. “You should get better acquainted first. Why don’t you walk him into the pasture and see if he wants some grass?” She looked to Ethan. “Ponies do eat grass, don’t they?”

  “Some rancher you’ll make. You don’t even know what horses eat. Just think of Harry as a starter kit.”

  Hannah took Harry’s lead and led him through a break in the split-rail fence into the meadow, leaving Caroline and Ethan standing on the drive. Alone together for the first time since he’d said he loved her, she felt tongue-tied and awkward. She didn’t know what to say. How could she, when she hadn’t sorted out her feelings about the man who was constantly surprising her, first with his declaration of love, then a three-day disappearance, and now this incredibly thoughtful gift for Hannah. No wonder she stayed off balance in his presence.

  “What will happen to Harry when I leave the valley next year and Hannah has to move?” she asked.

  “If Hannah’s new foster family can’t keep him, Grant promised to find the pony a home where Hannah can visit, possibly at Archer Farm.”

  Her frustration erupted as anger. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

  He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. “Not everything. I’m still working on how to keep you from moving west.”

  Before she could reply, he sprinted back to his truck and climbed inside.

  “I have to return Grant�
�s trailer,” he called through the open window, “then prepare Harry’s stall. See you at supper.”

  With her hands on her hips, she watched him continue up the road and turn around at the farmhouse. He passed her again, blew her a kiss and disappeared in a cloud of dust on his way to the highway.

  With a shake of her head, she turned and headed toward the meadow to join Hannah and Harry, wondering what complication life would throw at her next.

  * * *

  ETHAN WHISTLED while he worked, glad for the gusty breeze that cooled the interior of the barn. The air smelled of ozone and approaching rain, and he hurried to complete his last weld before the late August storm hit. His latest sculpture, a tangible manifestation of how far he’d come in healing, was almost finished. The stylistic representation of a little girl on a galloping pony, her hair blowing in the wind, was upbeat and positive, a far cry from the pessimism and pain captured in his earlier piece.

  Two months at Orchard Cottage had made the difference. Gofer had recommended routine and security for Hannah. The same prescription had worked for Ethan. Remodeling the cottage and creating his sculptures had filled his days, and Caroline and Hannah had filled his evenings and weekends. Together they’d explored the town and surrounding countryside. He’d abandoned the isolation he’d sought for so long. With Caroline, he’d visited Rand and Brynn, Merrilee and Grant, and Jodie and Jeff. Archer Farm had become like a second home, since he and Caroline took Hannah there often to visit Daniel.

  The one thing he hadn’t done was what he wanted most of all—kiss Caroline again. But he’d decided not to push her. In spite of the time they’d spent together, she still talked about leaving the valley next summer. If Caroline loved him and wanted a life with him, she’d have to make the first move. He loved her enough to live wherever she wanted, but he knew winning her heart was more complicated than simply finding a place to call home. She’d stated clearly that she wanted her independence, and he’d do nothing to make her feel tied to him or the valley. If she loved him enough to commit, she’d have to come to him of her own free will, make her own choices and not feel that he’d backed her into a corner where she didn’t want to be. He still had ten months to persuade her. And he’d learned that the best persuasion was merely being there, no strings attached.

  The barn had darkened from the gathering clouds, and he hurried to put away his equipment before the rains came. He was dashing to the back porch as the first fat drops of water fell. He paused before entering the house and glanced toward Blackberry Farm. A bolt of lightning split the sky with a concurrent crash of thunder. The streak speared the roof of Caroline’s barn and hung there, seemingly forever, its glare so bright, it hurt his eyes.

  Ethan blinked. And when his vision cleared from the brilliance, through the sheet of rain, he could see the plume of smoke and lick of flames curling from the barn roof.

  He bolted from the porch, tugged his cell phone from his pocket and punched in 911 as he raced for his truck.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CAROLINE STRUGGLED to breathe in the thick, moist air and glanced up the highway toward the west. A storm was coming. Thunderheads were building over the mountains and heading her way. Hannah perched on a stool inside the stand, reading a book while waiting for customers.

  “Better run on home before the storm hits, sweetie. I’ll close the stand. Is Harry in his stall?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Hannah closed her book and slid from the stool. “I promised him we’d go riding this afternoon.”

  “You’ll have to wait till the storm passes. Hurry, now, so you don’t get wet.”

  Obedient as always, Hannah skipped up the drive toward the house. Caroline watched her go with a sweet ache beneath her breastbone. In a matter of only a few weeks, the little girl had managed to put a lock on her heart so strong that Caroline couldn’t remember how life had been without her.

  She roused from her contemplation and assessed the oncoming storm. If she hurried, she could make the house before the weather broke. One by one, she released the braces that held up the shutters of the stand, lowered them, and latched them in place. She picked up the cash box and locked the door with its padlock before starting up the drive. The storm was moving faster than she’d estimated, and windblown rain stung her face. She was glad Hannah had had time to make it to the house before the torrent started.

  A tremendous clash of thunder almost deafened her, and as she peered through the rain, lightning struck the roof of the barn, hanging in the air, skewering the building with intense heat and light for several horrifying seconds. Sheets of water washed over her, almost obscuring her view, but not enough to hide the flames erupting from the shingles where the lightning had hit.

  The barn was on fire.

  And Harry was inside.

  Her heart lodged in her throat. Please, don’t let Hannah go after him.

  Caroline ran, but the wind and rain beat against her, slowing her down. She stumbled and almost fell, but sheer panic kept her going. Her wet sneakers lost traction on the porch steps, and she slid and banged her knee. But the intense pain was insignificant compared to her concern for Hannah.

  “Hannah! Where are you?” The screen door slammed behind her, but Hannah didn’t answer.

  “Hannah!” Caroline screamed again and grabbed the handset from the phone in the hall before hurrying to the kitchen. By the time she reached the back porch, the barn was engulfed in flames and spewing smoke, in spite of the pelting rain.

  And Hannah was running straight toward the barn door.

  “Hannah, stop!”

  The wind grabbed her words and flung them away. Hannah didn’t break her stride and plunged into the inferno.

  Caroline punched 911 into the phone. “Fire at Blackberry Farm,” she told the operator. “Send help.”

  She flung the handset aside and headed for the blaze, just as Ethan’s truck screeched to a stop in front of the barn and Ethan leaped from the cab.

  “Hannah,” Caroline shouted with a sob, “she’s inside.”

  “Stay back,” Ethan shouted. “I’ll get her.”

  Stripping off his shirt as he ran, Ethan, too, disappeared into the smoke and flames.

  Caroline tried to follow but the heat beat her back. She paced on the back lawn, oblivious to the soaking rain, her gaze locked on the doorway to hell into which the two most important people in her life had disappeared.

  From inside the barn came Harry’s screams of fear and the sound of hooves hammering the wall of his stall. Seconds dragged like hours, and with every beat of her rapid pulse, Caroline faced the likelihood that she might never see Hannah or Ethan alive again. She jumped as a rafter cracked, broke, and brought down a section of roof as it fell.

  Please, she thought, just let them be safe, and I’ll get my priorities straight. I don’t care about a ranch in New Mexico. All I want are Hannah and Ethan, alive and whole, to spend the rest of my life with.

  But the more time that passed, the less likely it seemed that anyone would survive the roaring blaze.

  Then, through a swirl of smoke, she glimpsed a movement, a tall form silhouetted by the flames behind it. Ethan stepped out of the haze.

  With Hannah in his arms, and Harry’s lead in his hands, he strode from the burning building with Harry trotting behind. Ethan had covered the pony’s eyes with his shirt.

  “Ethan!” Caroline raced toward them.

  “Take Hannah.” His voice wheezed from smoke inhalation
, and he thrust the girl into her arms. “I’ll get Harry to a safe place.”

  Sirens sounded and fire engines rumbled up the gravel drive, light bars flashing. Within minutes, the yard was filled with trucks, hoses and firefighters.

  Caroline, with Hannah in her arms, retreated to the porch, out of the way.

  “Are you all right, sweetie?” She choked back a sob of relief.

  Hannah’s face was smeared with soot, and she couldn’t stop coughing. Caroline checked her over carefully, but didn’t find any burns. The child’s clothes weren’t even singed.

  “You should never have gone in there. Didn’t you hear me call you?”

  Still coughing, Hannah shook her head. When she could finally catch enough breath to speak, she looked up with innocent eyes. “I couldn’t leave Harry, could I? He would have died.”

  Caroline gathered the girl in her arms and hugged her tight. “You both would have died if it weren’t for Ethan.”

  Hannah struggled to free herself from Caroline’s embrace. “Where’s Harry? Is he okay?”

  Caroline peered through the pouring rain and pointed. “He’s there. Tied to the far corner of the porch out of the way. He looks fine.”

  But where was Ethan?

  The torrent of rain eased, and she spotted Ethan among the firefighters, his bare torso black with soot as he grappled a length of hose, his hair and jeans plastered to his skin by rain. She was overcome by a rush of love.

  “Ethan’s a hero,” Hannah said with a sigh. “He saved Harry and me.”

  “Yes,” Caroline said with conviction. “He certainly is.”

  Then her heart stopped as Ethan, fire hose in hand, walked back into the blazing barn.

  Caroline couldn’t watch. She had to trust that Ethan, a veteran firefighter, knew what he was doing. “Come with me, Hannah. Those men will need food once the fire’s out. After a quick wash to get rid of that soot, you can help make sandwiches.”