Courting the Cowboy

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Ella relinquished the cat, trying not to grimace at the sight of the family room through the arched doorway of the kitchen. A television was blaring, and toys of all shapes and sizes joined more clothes scattered on the beautiful fawn-colored leather couch and love seat. A fireplace filled one wall, flanked by white columns and bridged by a mantel that held dusty candles next to a framed picture of Cord’s family.

  She could see the picture was a candid shot taken outside. Sunlight illuminated Cord and his wife and children.

  Cord stood with Suzy perched on his hip, her arms wrapped around his shoulder as she leaned away from him, the sun making a halo of her hair. Cord had his other arm draped around the shoulders of a stunningly beautiful woman with wavy blond hair. She in turn had her hand on Paul’s shoulder, her other hand cupped around her pregnant stomach.

  Ella turned away, frustrated that the picture so easily evoked memories. Was she ever going to put the past behind her?

  Boyce looked at her and frowned as if he had caught the vulnerability she had allowed to slip over her features.

  She lifted her chin, determined to push past it all. “I should get back to the cabin and back to work.”

  “Thanks for helping with the kids,” Boyce said, his smile warm and friendly. “And I should get going on supper.” Then he groaned, pressing his hand against his lower back.

  He looked tired. It couldn’t be easy for him supervising young, active kids at his age. And having to cook.

  “What are you making?”

  “Cord pulled out some meat. Not sure what to do with it, though.” He shifted some of the dishes around to make room on the stove, looking confused.

  “I’m hungry, Grandpa,” Paul complained.

  “Me too,” Suzy added. “My tummy hurts.”

  “I know. Just give me a bit and I’ll have supper ready.” Boyce gave her an apologetic look. As Ella watched his aimless meanderings, she felt a flash of sympathy for the man.

  “Maybe I can help?” she said.

  Boyce shot her a look full of gratitude. “That would be great. This is what Cord took out.” Boyce held up a plate of chicken breasts.

  “Chicken is pretty basic. Let’s see what we can do with it.”

  She dug through the disorganized shelves of the pantry, and found a bottle of Indian butter chicken sauce. Boyce found an onion, and a few minutes later she was sautéing chicken and cooking rice.

  As she worked, Ella was surprised at how easy it seemed, working in this kitchen. With these kids.

  And for the first time in a long while, she felt an easing of the band of anguish that usually gripped her heart.

  * * *

  Cord strode up the front walk of the house and grinned when he smelled the mouthwatering scent of butter sauce wafting out the open kitchen windows.

  Before he’d left for his meeting, Boyce had offered to make supper, telling him that he could easily manage. Cord was puzzled by the offer but thankful. He hated cooking and the kids usually hated what he made.

  He had hoped his father was able to work around the mess in the kitchen. A combination of his own attempts to cook and Boyce’s easygoing work ethic.

  He knew he needed to clean up and it had been bugging him for the past few days, but he was swamped with work. Thankfully his in-laws were willing to take Oliver for most of the spring break and with Boyce around, he and the kids could just about manage until school started again. It was strictly stopgap, but it gave him some breathing space until he found a nanny.

  He stepped inside the entrance, frustrated at the kids’ shoes tossed around on the floor and the dirt caked on the tiles beneath them. Lisa would have pitched a fit at the sight. Renovating this house had been a project she’d started since they were first married and moved in. He couldn’t begin to count how many hours, days and weeks she spent on Pinterest and consulting with the contractors to bring her vision to life.

  The house had, at one time, been a showpiece.

  But now... He sighed as he tidied up the shoes, setting them in their respective cubbies, then frowned as he saw an unfamiliar pair of sneakers.

  In a woman’s size.

  As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw Ella. Sitting at the table with Paul, both of them bent over a large piece of paper.

  Beyond them, he saw Suzy sitting on the floor in the family room just off the kitchen, watching her favorite television show on Netflix. The one he only allowed her to watch for half an hour before bed.

  Before he could reprimand her, he noticed that the table Ella and Paul sat at was clear, the counters cleaned off, the sink gleamed and even the refrigerator shone.

  And he could smell butter chicken cooking.

  For the first time in two years, his house felt like a home again.

  “Daddy,” Paul called out, jumping up from his chair, knocking it over in the process. “You’re home.”

  “I come home every day,” he said, crouching down to grab his son in a hug.

  Then Ella looked up, and their eyes met. To his disappointment he felt the same tremor of awareness he’d felt on Sunday.

  She brushed her hair away from her face in a self-conscious gesture and leveled him a careful smile. “The kids came to show me Oreo and things got a little out of control, so I helped your dad bring them all back.”

  “The kitten took off at Ella’s and her dog went crazy,” Boyce put in, “We had to find the cat and then bring it back here. I didn’t know what to do about supper and she offered to help.”

  While Cord was digesting this, Paul spoke up. “Miss Ella is looking at our school project.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Cord said, straightening and looking around, still trying to absorb the changes that Ella had achieved in the short time she had been there.

  “Daddy, there you are.” Suzy finally noticed him. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the remote, clicking the television off. She danced into the room looking completely unselfconscious.

  Cord felt at a loss as he sat at the table, sorting through everything thrown at him the past few minutes. He felt as if he had stepped into a story and wasn’t sure of the beginning or end.

  “So, tell me how the cat got into Miss Langton’s house,” he said, figuring he’d start with that.

  “We brought Oreo over so Ella could see her,” Suzy said, flopping into a chair and plucking a colored pencil from an old yogurt container in the middle of the now-clean table.

  “Why did you think Miss Langton wanted to see your cat?” He shot another look over at Ella but she was looking down at what Paul was scribbling on the paper in front of him. Too bad. He wouldn’t have minded another look at her deep brown eyes.

  Shaking off that thought, he focused his attention on Suzy.

  “Grandpa was sleeping and we were bored,” she continued. “So we took Oreo out to the barn. Then I thought Miss Ella would like to meet Oreo so we took him there.” Suzy glanced up at him, with an innocent look on her face.

  He didn’t know what to deal with first. Her matter-of-fact recitation of their disobedience, their leaving while their grandfather was sleeping or their going into the old ramshackle barn he had repeatedly told them was off-limits.

  “I was only sleeping for a little while,” Boyce grumbled. “And as soon as I found out the kids weren’t in the house, I went looking. Found them at Ella’s. Things got crazy with the kids and the dog and the cat and she offered to walk back with us. And then she said she’d clean up. And you gotta admit, she did a fantastic job.”

  Cord leaned back in his chair, relief mingled with confusion took over. He’d seen Ella’s reaction to his kids. So why was she here now?

  “Miss Langton, can I have a word?” he asked, getting up from his chair.

  She nodded, and followed him as he walked through the entryway,
then outside to the verandah.

  He realized he was still in his socks and felt foolish. But he didn’t want to talk where the kids might overhear.

  “I’m sorry if I intruded,” Ella began as she looked out over the valley, avoiding his gaze. “But your father seemed overwhelmed and the children were upset.”

  Cord shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m the one that should be apologizing. Again. The kids...” He wasn’t sure where to start. This was the third time he’d had to apologize. It was getting exhausting and she must be wondering why he couldn’t keep his offspring under control.

  “Please, sit down?” he asked, pointing to the wicker chairs on the verandah.

  She hesitated but then lowered herself into one of the chairs. He sat down beside her, leaning forward, eyes intent on the valley as if he needed the solidity of the view he’d grown up with to center himself.

  “This is a beautiful spot,” she said, her soft voice speaking aloud what he had been thinking.

  “I grew up here,” he said, clasping his hands, his eyes traveling over the familiar view.

  Why was he telling her that?

  Because it’s been ages since you’ve sat with a woman and just talked to her.

  But he wasn’t there to make chitchat, he reminded himself. There was a purpose to this conversation.

  However, he was strangely reluctant to get to the point.

  “You’re lucky to have lived in the country,” Ella continued. “I’ve always wanted to.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “I lived in Winnipeg until I was nine, but we moved to Calgary when my mother purchased a small art gallery and I had a chance to study with Frances Myktyshn.”

  She glanced at him, as if he was supposed to know who she was talking about, but the name drew a blank.

  Then she released a short laugh. “Sorry. I’ve moved in art circles so long I tend to think everyone knows who is who. Frances is a well-known mixed-media artist. I learned the basics from my mother but Frances brought my work to another level.” She stopped and he found he wanted to ask her more but he caught himself.

  “That’s good,” he said, the comment sounding inane in his ears. He waited a beat, then carried on. “So, I’d like to thank you for helping my father out this afternoon.”

  “He seemed rather out of his depth.”

  Which only served to make Cord feel even guiltier.

  “I know that taking care of the kids is a bit much for him, but he offered and I had this important meeting to go to.”

  “Boyce told me all about the Rodeo Association and Cedar Ridge’s plans to join it.”

  Cord nodded. “He’s not nuts about the idea. Likes to keep our rodeo small. Local. We’re trying to get it included in the Milk River Rodeo Association. Something my wife had been working on. So, I took it over after...after she died.” He was talking too much and blamed it on her quiet presence. The way she had angled her head toward him, giving him her attention as if she was truly interested in what he was saying.

  For a moment he was reluctant to bring up what he truly wanted to talk to her about. It was quiet out here. It had been a long time since he’d found even the tiniest sliver of peace. Someone always wanted something from him. The kids. His dad. The ranch. Now the Cedar Ridge Rodeo Group. And always, circling like a vulture, was the fact that his home life was so chaotic. That his kids were growing up in a mess that would have made Lisa crazy.

  Then, after an especially acrimonious meeting, to come home to supper cooking on a clean stove. To see the house tidy and neat, the kids quiet and entertained. To feel peace in his own home. It felt wonderful.

  “I’m so sorry about your wife,” she said. “I’m sure this is hard for you. Raising your kids and trying to work at the same time.”

  She must have interpreted his silence for sorrow.

  Yes, thinking about Lisa made him sad. And spending time with her parents twice a month often reinforced that, but it was as if each month she grew more shadowy. Less vivid.

  If only the guilt would do the same.

  “It is,” he admitted. “Thanks for that. But it’s something I need to do.” He took a breath, sat straighter, pushing the thoughts aside. Returning to the reason he’d brought her out there.

  “So about the kids,” he said, resting his hands on his knees. “Once again, I’m sorry about this afternoon and Sunday. Suzy and Paul know they aren’t supposed to come over. I made it very clear to them.”

  “It wasn’t their fault things got a little goofy. When I brought the kids back, your dad asked me to stay and help out while he got the kids settled. I could see Boyce was overwhelmed.”

  “I know it’s hard for Dad. I’m in the process of finding someone who can watch the kids.” Though he’d asked around, he still didn’t have a replacement for Adana yet. For some reason, he hated to admit that to Ella. As if he couldn’t properly take care of his own children. “But in the meantime, I’ll make sure the kids stay out of your hair.”

  “They’re okay—”

  “Thanks for being so gracious, but I know you’re uncomfortable around them.”

  The words came out harsher than he planned, and he could see from the look on her face that he had hurt her. Which wasn’t his intention at all. He had merely been trying to give her an out. He knew how his father operated and it wasn’t entirely impossible that Boyce had arranged the whole “show Ella the kitten” scenario in order to get her back here.

  “I like your kids,” she said, her tone defensive and he wondered if he had read her wrong. “It’s just that I’m afraid—” She stopped there, looking down at her hands, now twisted around each other. She pulled in a breath and looked over at him, as if she was about to say something more when the door burst open and Suzy flounced out onto the deck. She paused, hands planted on her hips as if trying to figure out what was going on, then skipped over to Cord and weaseled her way onto his lap.

  Suzy looked at Ella and flashed her a gap-toothed grin.

  “I’m so glad you’re helping me and Paul with our art project,” she said. “I know it’s going to be the best one in the school.”

  Suzy and Paul had entered a poster contest that the Rodeo Group was putting on to raise awareness and support for their cause.

  “Honey, Miss Langton might not want to help you,” he said, hoping to let her down easy. His kids had dealt with enough sadness and disappointment in their young lives. He didn’t want them to be treated like they were unwanted.

  “But Grandpa said she’s an artist,” Suzy explained, as if she had to make that clear to her silly father. “And that she’s good at drawing, so she could help us.”

  “Honey, I can find someone else—”

  “But she drew a picture for me and it was really nice,” Suzy said, her lower lip starting to quiver. Then before he could stop her, she slipped off his lap and ran over to Ella, catching her by the arm. “Please. Can you help us? Grandpa doesn’t draw good and I really want to win. There’s a contest with prizes and everything and we can’t do it by ourselves because...because we don’t...we don’t have a momma.”

  Oh. No. Not that.

  Cord was mortified as Suzy worked herself up into a full-fledged wail, laying her head on Ella’s lap, her sobs growing more dramatic.

  “Suzy. Stop it,” Cord said, getting up to pull her away.

  Ella pressed her lips together and once again Cord saw sorrow and pain.

  Then her hand came up and rested on Suzy’s head, her fingers stroking down her daughter’s unruly hair.

  “Honey, please don’t cry,” she said, her voice holding a gentle note.

  “But Grandpa can’t help,” Suzy sobbed, “and Daddy is too busy.”

  Cord winced.

  “Oh, sweetie. It’s okay. It will be okay,�
� Ella said, still stroking Suzy’s hair.

  “Really?” Suzy lifted her head at that and Cord could see her smiling. “It’s okay? Yay. It’s okay.”

  She fist-pumped the air even as her tears glistened on her cheeks, and Cord wondered what she was celebrating. Then Paul joined them and Suzy ran over to her brother.

  “Miss Ella said she’s going to help us with our project. It’s going to be the best ever. Grandpa said she’s an artist,” she said, dancing around Paul and grabbing his hand.

  How did Suzy get that from what Ella said?

  Cord glanced over at Ella to see her startled reaction.

  Then Paul raced to Ella’s side, beaming, Suzy still hopping up and down beside him. “I’m so happy,” he said, beaming at Ella. “Grandpa said he couldn’t help us and Daddy is too busy and Adana said she would help us but she took off. We really wanted to do this project because the winner gets to go to the Calgary Zoo and we’ve never been even though Grammie and Grampie live in Calgary.”

  Cord easily saw Ella’s struggle, and once again he wondered why she was so uneasy around the kids. Though it still bothered him, he felt bad for her. He was just about to speak up when she gave Paul a gentle smile.

  “Okay. I’ll help you with your project,” she said, as if unaware that Suzy had already assumed that.

  Paul whooped and Suzy fist-pumped again, and then they both ran back into the house, calling out for their grandfather to share in their joy.

  Cord turned back to Ella. “Again, I have to apologize for my kids. Trust me I’ve raised them better than this. I know how Suzy can railroad people. You don’t have to do this.”

  “You don’t want me helping the kids?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just, like I said, I know you’re uncomfortable around them.”

  And if he was completely honest, he was uncomfortable around her. Part of him had hoped she would turn them down. Having her on the property was hard enough. Having her right in his house...

  “It’s true. I am.” Her admission surprised him. “But at the same time I don’t feel it’s fair to them to leave them on their own,” she added.