How to Marry a Cowboy (Cowboys & Brides)

by Carolyn Brown

  At noon, he stopped the tractor at the edge of the field, walked a quarter of a mile back to the house, and took off his dirty boots on the back porch. Sheets flapped out on the clothesline. Goats were happy in their new pen. Everything seemed to be in order, so maybe his daughters hadn’t strung the new nanny up by her blond braids.

  The aroma of fried chicken and hot bread wafted through the kitchen and into the mud room. He stopped at the wall-hung sink beside the washer, and heard the hum of it running through a spin cycle. Busy sounds of a ranch house like he used to hear when he was a kid and his mother had charge of everything. He felt a sense of place and contentment he hadn’t felt in so long he couldn’t remember the last time.

  “Daddy, Daddy! Guess what?” Lily’s bare feet slapped against the floor.

  Gabby was right behind her. “We got to help make dinner.”

  “Is that right?” he asked.

  He looked up to see Annie Rose with a hint of flour on her forehead, an apron tied about her small waist, and a smile on her face. She winked at him like Holly used to do when she was happy. And his heart swelled the same way it used to—seeing his woman happy just about made him burst. Wait a minute, wait a minute, Annie Rose wasn’t “his woman”—holy Lord, what was he thinking? Was he losing his mind out of sheer relief to have someone who seemed capable of looking after the twins?

  “You’re still here,” he said.

  “I’ve made it four hours, but I’ve got a ways to go to beat the record,” she said.

  “Okay, girls, what did you make me? Cold cereal or toast?”

  “Fried chicken,” Lily said. “And me and Gabby made the biscuits. Mama-Nanny let us do it all by ourselves.”

  “And we set the table too. Did you know the knife is supposed to face the plate so you are ready to use it when you pick it up, but that we don’t have to cut our meat if there’s a bone, like in chicken legs? We can pick them up and eat them with our fingers if we remember to wipe our hands on the napkin and not on the front of our shirts,” Gabby said.

  Lily tugged at his hand. “Come on, Daddy. We’ve got it on the table because we saw you comin’.”

  “Thank you,” he mouthed at Annie Rose.

  She smiled her answer and followed them to the table.

  The girls chattered all through dinner and didn’t even argue when Annie Rose reminded them not to talk with food in their mouths and to use their napkins. Maybe it was the mother instinct in her that reminded him so much of Holly.

  “Mighty fine dinner, and especially the biscuits. I could eat those every day.” He pushed back from the table and picked up his tea glass.

  “We have dessert,” Lily said.

  “You should have told me that before I ate that last chicken wing,” Mason said.

  Gabby cocked her head to one side like Holly used to do when she was on the verge of an argument. “We worked all morning, so you can at least taste it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Maybe half a serving now and then more tonight,” he said.

  Annie Rose removed the empty chicken platter and set a lopsided, three-layer chocolate cake in the middle of the table. “From a mix, and two little girls couldn’t leave the oven door shut, so it’s leaning a little bit to the left,” she whispered for his ears only. He’d never had a nanny in the house who got excited over an ugly cake or who made his girls love to work or one who had such gorgeous blue eyes.

  “Well, would you look at that? We won’t be ordering cakes from the bakery for your birthdays anymore if you two can cook like this,” Mason said.

  Annie Rose cut a small slice, laid it on a saucer, and handed it to Mason. He picked up a fork and tasted a small bite. “Hmmm? It looks like cake and it tastes like cake. Guess I’d best have another bite or two before I pass judgment on the quality.”

  Annie Rose watched them as they waited impatiently, with a sweet look of pure excitement in her eyes that matched his girls’ expressions.

  “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. I can’t wait until supper to get a fatter piece,” he said.

  The girls threw up their palms and high-fived each other. Annie Rose carried his plate to the sink and he snuck a peek at her butt swaying from side to side as she walked away from the table.

  She brought back a cup of steaming black coffee and set it in front of him, her breasts barely brushing his shoulder. Other women had done the same thing, but none other than Holly had caused the reaction that Annie Rose did. Guilt washed over him again for feeling that way about any woman, but most especially about one who lived under the same roof with him.

  “Okay, ladies, how much cake do you want? Like your daddy’s or bigger?” she asked. “And remember, you are washing dishes while I put everything away.”

  “Like Daddy’s, and yes, ma’am,” they said at the same time.

  He picked up his cup and pushed back the chair, “You girls want to have dessert by the pool? I would sure love to stretch out my legs in a recliner lawn chair while I have coffee. Is it all right if they do the dishes after I go back to work, Annie Rose?”

  “There’s no hurry. We all get a break at noon, no matter if we’re hauling hay or baking. I’ll put your cake on paper plates and you can pour your tea into plastic cups. Be careful and don’t spill it,” Annie Rose said.

  Mason settled into the chair and Annie Rose pulled up another one beside him. The girls were ten feet away at the patio table.

  “They are fast learners,” she said.

  “You are amazing. I’ll pay you double if you’ll sign a year’s contract.” Where in the hell had those words come from? He couldn’t hire a woman like Annie Rose for a year. He couldn’t bear the guilt that being in the same room with her brought about. He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

  “One month at a time,” she said.

  ***

  The rooms were usually a cross between a dump ground and what happens when a tornado hits a toy store when Mason went in to kiss the girls good night. That night everything was in its place and Gabby was propped up against the headboard on pillows with a book in her hands.

  “I’m reading this book that I got for my birthday yesterday and Mama-Nanny says that it was in her library and that I should read it. We get to read thirty minutes before we have lights-out now, and we’re on the honor system. At nine thirty, we have to put the marker in our book. See?” She held up a piece of paper with stickers plastered on it. “Me and Lily made one this afternoon. Mama-Nanny showed us how to make it and she taught us how to use measuring cups and cook and she says she trusts us to turn off our own lights at nine thirty.”

  Without having to pick his way across the floor to avoid stepping on a Barbie, an electronic device, or a hair bow, he quickly crossed the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “So you think maybe you’ll keep your mean old nanny?”

  Gabby sighed. “We would fire her if she was a nanny, but since she’s a mama”—she emphasized the word—“we are going to keep her. We had so much fun today, Daddy.”

  “I thought you had to do chores,” he said.

  “Well, we thought chores were work. We didn’t know they were fun.” Gabby yawned. “I’m glad Djali is in his own bed tonight. I really didn’t like all that carryin’ on last night.”

  Mason kissed her on the forehead. “So today was a good day?”

  “The best ever.” Gabby smiled.

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Lily looked up from her book when she heard him coming through the connecting bathroom between her and Gabby’s room. “Daddy, come and smell my sheets. They smell like springtime. Mama-Nanny says that we can hang them on the line every Monday if it’s not raining.”

  Mason crossed another clean floor and stuck his nose in Lily’s pillow, inhaling deeply. “They do smell nice. What are you reading?”

  “It’s called Winner Bakes All, and
it’s about a little girl my age who likes to be a tomboy, but she likes to cook too. Mama-Nanny says when I read it all, me and Gabby can make cupcakes and put our own decorations on them and we’ll have them for dessert when you come home at noon.”

  “Then you had a good day and you like this idea of turning off television and games so you can read before you go to sleep?” Mason asked.

  Lily twisted her mouth to one side. “Well, I didn’t think I was going to like it one bit, but Mama-Nanny says that if we know where our things are all the time that it makes everything work better.”

  “So we’re not going to fire her?” Mason asked.

  “Hell, no! I mean heck, no! Mamas are better than nannies, so me and Gabby were right all along,” Lily answered.

  Mason kissed Lily on the forehead. Two calm girls who didn’t want thirty more minutes of Nick-at-Nite or thirty more minutes of games on their tablets—no one could tell him that miracles didn’t exist in today’s world.

  The faint squeak of porch-swing chains sent him outside. Hopefully there wasn’t another woman sleeping out there. If so, he was going to take the swing down and store it out in the barn.

  A full moon hung in the sky right above Annie Rose’s head with bright twinkling stars gathered around it like subjects around a reigning queen. She moved to one end of the swing and patted the empty space beside her.

  “Plenty of room for two,” she said.

  He sat down on the other end of the swing, and an instant wall went up between them. It was as if Holly was right there between them, reminding him that she still had a place in his heart. And yet, there was Annie Rose with her amazing ability to love his girls, a body that he yearned to wrap his arms around and protect, and eyes that could see all the way to the bottom of his soul.

  “Girls asleep yet?” she asked.

  “No, but they are watching the clock. Honor system, Gabby said.”

  “It worked for me. I didn’t let them swim today, because water makes them sleepy and they were about to drop by midafternoon, so we told stories and folded clothes before the fiddle lesson. Lily has a good musical ear and she’s going to be a quick study. The piano lessons helped. She’s already playing a simple little two-chord song by ear. Gabby has a beautiful voice. She and Lily harmonize well, but Gabby has the better voice. I promised them that every Friday night they can show you how much they’ve learned. It’ll be like a concert in the living room, so get ready for it.”

  “I’d like that,” he said.

  ***

  He’d cleaned up for supper, and the remnants of soap and some kind of masculine-smelling shaving lotion mixed with the night air was a heady combination. A plain white T-shirt stretched over the tight muscles in his chest, and the sleeves strained over his bulging biceps. Mason had arms and a body that were the result of hard work and not a set of expensive machines in the private gym in the basement of an expensive house in Beaumont. Somehow, it was a helluva lot sexier than the toned body produced by trainers and weights.

  Mason wore his shirt on the outside of his snug-fitting jeans. She blushed when she realized that she’d stopped scanning his body where the shirt ended midway down the zipper of those tight-fitting jeans. She quickly followed the faded denim to his feet. He’d kicked off his boots and even his bare feet were gorgeous.

  Her body screamed, yes, yes, yes, you can trust this man. He’s a good person who would never be mean to a woman. Her mind continued to yell, no, no, no, look what trust got you into. Her poor heart cringed and hid from the voices.

  Quickly coughing to cover the squeak that came out when she tried to speak, she covered her mouth with her hand and then asked, “So have you lived here on this ranch your whole life?”

  “I was born in that room where my bedroom is now. My great-grandpa started the ranch. Grandpa built it up further, and then my dad and mother made it grow even bigger. I inherited it when I married the girls’ mother when I was twenty-one years old.”

  “Only child?” she asked, glad that he was staring out across the land and not at her.

  “Oh, no! I have three brothers, all older than me and all hate ranching. When my folks retired, they traveled for two years, seeing everything that they’d missed while they were tied down to ranch and family, then they settled in Florida right on the beach. Mother loves it and Dad stays active on the golf course, and he still works with the National Angus Association, so he gets to be involved in enough ranchin’ to keep him happy.”

  “Do your brothers live near them?” She wanted him to keep talking, not so she’d know everything about his family, but his deep Southern drawl was so soothing.

  Mason shook his head. “My middle brother lives in Germany. He’s career military and will retire in a couple of years. Right now, he plans on joining the folks in Florida when he retires. The oldest one has an oil business in Houston. And the youngest one, who is eight years older than me, is in California. He’s in the movie industry.”

  “And they all grew up right here? I’m surprised none of them stuck around. This place is so…” She stopped.

  “So what?” he asked.

  “So peaceful and beautiful and”—she paused again before she finished with—“and soul satisfying. Sounds kind of crazy, but it is.”

  Mason nodded. “They were eight, ten, and twelve when I was born, and not a one of them liked the business. Mother said God gave me to them so the ranch would survive. I loved dirt and cows from the time I could crawl, or at least that’s what she says. What about you?”

  “Only child. Adopted.”

  For the hundredth time since she’d sold the ranch, she regretted it again. It had only been a section of land, six hundred and forty acres, with a one-story ranch house, but it had been home. And now she wished that instead of a suitcase full of money and a bank account she’d never touched, that she had the dirt and cows.

  She inhaled deeply and went on to say, “I was raised on a small ranch outside Thicket, that’s not far from Beaumont. Daddy grew Angus and dabbled around with some fancy breeds for fun. They were well into their forties when they adopted me, and they died within six months of each other when I was a senior in college. I sold the ranch a few weeks after Mama died.”

  “You sound wistful,” he said.

  “After a day with the girls, I am,” she admitted.

  “If you hadn’t sold the ranch, you wouldn’t be where you are today.”

  She smiled. “Philosophical, are you?”

  “If I am, then it’s because life made me that way. I didn’t know jack shit about babies when Holly died. Barely knew how to change a diaper, but I learned real fast. Mother offered to come live with me, but she and Dad deserved their retirement, and I wanted to prove that I could run a ranch and raise two kids all on my own. Sometimes I felt like Holly was laughing at me. I talked to her—especially that first year, and”—he stopped for a full minute before he went on—“on occasion, I still do. It took a few months, but one morning I woke up and realized I was making it work all by myself. Maybe not a good job, but I was getting it done. It’s been a long time since I liked a day as much as I have today, Annie Rose. Guess that was a lot of information all at once. When I’m nervous, I tend to use forty words when four would do the trick.”

  “So do I. It’s my second-biggest failing,” she said.

  “What’s the first?” he asked.

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’d tell you, but then… well, you know the rest. And you’ve got two kids that adore you and need you.”

  The silence that surrounded them wasn’t uncomfortable. It didn’t need to be filled with words or stories. Even the tension that had been between them when he sat down was more relaxed now that they were talking. He chanced a glance over at her. The moonlight danced on her blond hair as the swing moved back and forth and took her from shadows into light.

  “I should tell you,
” he finally said, “that the investigator I hired to check out your story told me that Nick Trahan had a new girlfriend. She’s the one that set up that bridal thing you were in, and it’s a probability that he was there to see her.”

  Annie Rose sighed. “He vowed if I ever left him he’d hunt me down and kill me.”

  Mason laid a hand on her shoulder and she didn’t flinch. “You’re safe here on Bois D’Arc Bend.”

  “Thank you for everything. I should be going inside now. Good night, Mason.”

  “Good night,” he said. “I’m going to sit here a little longer. I’ll lock up when I come in.”

  Chapter 6

  How in the hell two goats could be so wily was beyond Annie Rose’s wildest imagination. She and the girls had finished setting the table for dinner and everything was staying warm, either in the oven or on top of the stove, when it sounded like a whole wagonload of cats got into a major fight in the backyard.

  She tossed her apron on the cabinet and took off toward the back door with both girls right behind her, screaming that O’Malley had come home and was into it again with his arch enemy, the wild barn cat. It would have been a good thing if it had been two old tomcats having a showdown with fur flying and claws out.

  But it went way further than that scenario. There was old O’Malley halfway up the porch post, hair all standing on end, tail puffed out, and eyes that were nigh unto popping right out of the sockets. Djali must have thought the cat’s tail was a big ball of cotton candy, because he was standing on his hind legs trying to eat it. Jeb was right behind Djali, fighting for a chance at the cat’s tail.

  Lily stomped her foot and screamed, “Jeb, you get your sorry goat ass back in your pen or I’m going to butcher you for supper.”

  “I think you’ll have to drag him to the pen,” Annie Rose said. “He’s sure not going to turn around because you are yelling at him.”

  “You catch him, and then I’m going to sell his ass at the auction. I’m tired of being a goat owner,” she said.