A Cowboy for the Twins

by Carolyne Aarsen

“This is a citation, and the rest of the package will explain in more detail,” the man was saying. “You have thirty days to answer the complaint with the summons. If you do not show at court, you’ll get a default judgment against you.”

  “Are you serving the legal papers?” Icy fingers clutched his heart as the man nodded. “Who is this from?” Noah asked.

  “Not allowed to discuss that. All I can tell you is they are court papers and there is a time limit.” Then he walked back to his car.

  Noah ripped open the envelope, and with shaking fingers pulled out the legal documents.

  And as he scanned them, trying to understand the legalese, he realized what the papers meant.

  The Rodriguez family was suing him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why isn’t Mr. Noah coming?” Millie sat on the bed, her hands resting on her knees. “And you’re all dressed up so pretty.”

  Shauntelle’s heart felt like a rock in her chest. She wasn’t sure where to put her emotions. Just a few moments ago she’d gotten a text from him saying he had to cancel their date to go to Vancouver.

  But what sent a chill blooming in her chest was the last thing he wrote.

  I think we should give each other some space.

  The words were like a physical blow. The line was so cliché, she was disappointed that he used it. If he was breaking her heart, surely he could come up with something more original.

  Why had he strung her along like this? Why even bother if this was going to be the endgame?

  Something wasn’t adding up, but she felt too distraught to delve into it.

  “Are you crying?” Margaret asked.

  Shauntelle gave her a tight smile, shaking her head. “No, I think I got something in my eye.”

  “That happens to me sometimes,” Margaret said sympathetically. “You just have to blink a bunch of times and it will go away.”

  If only it were that easy.

  She tucked the girls in and gave them a perfunctory kiss. Now she needed to get out of the house, away from her mother’s questions and her daughters’ concerns.

  She closed the door behind her and leaned against it a moment, the tears that Margaret had noticed now drifting down her face. She swiped at them, angry that she’d allowed them to fall. Angry that Noah had created this disappointment in her. Angry that once again she had put herself in a position to be let down by a man.

  She strode down the hall into the kitchen and grabbed her car keys off the hook.

  “Do you mind if I go out for a little while?” she asked her mother. “I need to go for a drive.”

  Her mother looked up from the crossword puzzle she was working on. “Are you seeing...Noah?”

  Her hesitation as she spoke his name was like a fitting counterpoint to the entire situation. Her parents didn’t like Noah. Never did. Never would.

  Maybe it was just as well.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  No. Nothing was okay. Everything was all wrong.

  “I just want to get out.” And before her mother could ask her any more questions, she walked out to the car, got in and drove. She had no plan; she simply needed to get away.

  She drove to the arena. Nobody was working there, and the doors were locked. But she walked around the back, where the courtyard of the restaurant was taking shape. Noah had promised her it would be ready by opening day.

  Noah and his promises.

  The thought choked her.

  She didn’t know why she was torturing herself, but she pulled her phone out again and once more read what Noah had sent her.

  I think we should give each other some space.

  Some space.

  It was a classic breakup text. Why couldn’t he just come out and say it? Why was he hiding behind these superficial comments?

  And why wasn’t he man enough to phone her?

  She wanted to toss the phone across the field. As if that would do any good.

  She leaned against the wall, sliding down until she reached a sitting position. She wrapped her arms around her knees and laid her head on them, and in spite of her decision to keep her heart whole, the tears drifted down her cheeks and a sob stuck in her chest. It annoyed her that Noah had brought her to this. She had cried enough tears these last few years, but those tears were for a reason. They were for a loss.

  This was a loss as well, but deep and harsh disappointment was woven through it.

  Dear Lord, she prayed, why did You bring him into my life only to pull him out again? Why did You put me through all this? It would’ve been so much easier if I had simply followed my instincts and not let him into my and my daughters’ lives.

  Her daughters. What was she going to tell them? They thought Noah was amazing. Thought he was some kind of hero who would rescue them and bring them to a new life.

  Her anger took over the tears. She wished he had never come back to Cedar Ridge. Wished she’d never put herself in this position, with a vulnerable heart. Thinking she could count on him.

  She took in a shuddering breath, knowing she had to pull herself together. She and her daughters had been on their own even before Roger died. This was nothing new to them; they could handle this again.

  But even as she stood and wiped her eyes, her heart twisted in her chest. Because she knew forgetting Noah and putting him behind her would be harder than she ever realized possible.

  Maybe even harder than when Roger died.

  And behind that treacherous thought came another, almost as hard to face.

  Maybe her parents were right about him. He wasn’t the right person for her and her daughters. He wasn’t a good man.

  She wished she could shake that thought off, but like the anger and pain, it, too, clung.

  You’re on your own, she told herself as she looked at the courtyard of her restaurant and her future. From here on it’s just you and your Lord and your family and your kids.

  * * *

  The next few days were a blur of busyness—working at the restaurant, the bank and getting ready for the Farmer’s Market on the weekend. Thankfully Noah didn’t come back to the arena. But every night, when Shauntelle was alone in her bedroom, sorrow took over. So she threw herself into her work and tried to be positive for her daughters.

  And all the time Noah stayed away.

  The girls were asking about him, but she put them off with vague answers. Once she was ready to talk about it more, she would let them know what a disappointment he had been.

  By Friday she felt as if she might make it. Each day still brought the reminder of the loss of dreams, but she drew on the coping skills that had stood her in good stead after Josiah died. After Roger died. Her parents said nothing, though Shauntelle was sure they knew what was happening.

  She was putting the finishing touches on a cake she had been baking when her mother came back from the gas station.

  “Do you want a cup of tea?” she asked her mother when she came into the kitchen.

  Her mother waved her offer off, then sat down at the table, heaving out a heavy sigh.

  “You seem tired,” Shauntelle said, concerned. In spite of her own troubles, Shauntelle had noticed that her mother had looked especially drawn and weary the past week.

  “A little. Lots on my mind,” she said, but her answer came out forced. Then she gave Shauntelle a gentle smile. “And how are you doing? I noticed that you haven’t been at the Cosgrove ranch the past week. At all. Even the girls were grumbling about that.”

  Shauntelle looked back at the cake she was icing, wondering what to tell her mother and how. She would be happy, that much she was sure of, but it bothered her that she couldn’t share this struggle with her.

  “Is...is everything okay between you and Noah?” Her question came out quietly, almost hesitantly
.

  “Do you care?” The sharp tone in her voice surprised even Shauntelle. She didn’t usually snap at her mother.

  Then, to her surprise, she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder. “I care that you are hurting. I care that he’s gone and that you’ve been so sad this week. I’m sure things will work out.”

  Shauntelle just shook her head. “I doubt it. I think it’s over.” She hadn’t been in contact with Noah since that horrible text, and she had no desire to find out what was going on in his life.

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” her mother said, patting her shoulder. “Given everything that has happened or might happen...” Her voice trailed off.

  Shauntelle wondered what she was going to say, but didn’t have the energy to ask.

  “I should let you know your father wants to take the girls out tomorrow afternoon,” her mother said. “Now that Nick is working more, he has time to do something with them.”

  Shauntelle nodded. “That sounds good. Where does he want to go?”

  “He thought he might take them for a walk up Horseman Creek.”

  Shauntelle doubted her daughters would appreciate the walks her father liked to take, but she was thankful he was making the effort. “It’s not supposed to be such nice weather tomorrow though,” she added, glancing out the window. She’d been watching the forecast herself, guessing that the Farmer’s Market would be moved indoors if it rained. Which was just as well. She’d heard, through the workers’ coffee-time chatter, that Noah was returning on Saturday to do a quality control check.

  So it would work well if she could be tucked away inside the old arena. It would keep her away from Noah and any potentially embarrassing and awkward meetings.

  “He wanted to go in the morning and be back before the rain comes,” her mother said.

  “I like that. It would be good for them to spend some time together.”

  “I agree, and Shauntelle...about Noah...like I said, it’s probably best...” Her mother’s voice faded away, and Shauntelle looked back. “Once this messy business is all settled...”

  “What do you mean, messy business?”

  Her mother chewed her lip, hesitating.

  Shauntelle put down the spatula she’d been using and walked over to her mother. “What are you talking about?”

  Her mother looked over her shoulder, as if someone else might come into the room, then back at Shauntelle.

  “It was Noah’s own fault,” her mother said finally. “He shouldn’t have sent us that money.”

  Shauntelle felt like she had to shake her head to sort out what her mother was telling her.

  “Money? What money?”

  Her mother’s eyes slid away, as if she didn’t dare hold her gaze.

  “Mother,” Shauntelle warned.

  “It started a month after Josiah died,” her mother said, wringing her hands in anguish. “We got a check from Noah for two thousand dollars, and a letter telling us how sorry he was. He’s been sending us money ever since.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of this before?” Shauntelle felt a clench of nervous anxiety. “And why did you take it?”

  “He owed that to us,” her mother cried out, finally looking at her.

  “He was found to be innocent. He wasn’t at fault for anything that happened.” Shauntelle stared at her mother, unable to believe she still thought Noah had anything to do with Josiah’s death.

  This was getting to be too much.

  Shauntelle thought of Josiah’s pictures sitting on the windowsill. The pictures that had prompted her comment to Noah. She walked over, grabbed three of them and brought them back.

  “You remember where these pictures were taken?” she asked, setting them in front of her mother, commenting on each one. “This one was when he went bungee jumping. In this one he went hang gliding, and this one is him rock climbing. You don’t have one of him surfing or backcountry snowboarding, but he did those things too. All things that gave my brother a rush, as he liked to say. You know Josiah loved taking risks. I’ve watched Noah at work. He’s a cautious man and very concerned about his workers’ safety. If we put everything together, I think you and I both know it was probably Josiah’s own fault he died.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened as her gaze flew to hers. “How can you say that about your own brother?”

  “I think you know I’m right,” Shauntelle said. “You know how foolhardy Josiah could be.”

  “If Noah wasn’t at fault, why was he sending us this money? The lawyer told us it looked like he was guilty.”

  “Lawyer? When were you talking to a lawyer, and what money are you talking about?”

  Her mother looked away, fiddling with her wedding rings. A sure sign that she was nervous or uncertain about something.

  “Mother, you have to tell me what’s happening.”

  “It was your father’s idea,” her mother blurted. “I didn’t like it at all, but I thought it would help us.”

  “What would help you?”

  Her mother twisted her rings around her finger once more, then sighed, facing Shauntelle. “We are suing Noah for Josiah’s death.”

  And suddenly, like tumblers falling into place, everything made sense. This was why Noah left; this was why he had pulled away from her.

  She spun away from her mother, unable to articulate any comments. She grabbed a cake, dropped it in the cake box and slapped the lid shut. She added it to the other cakes already in a larger box.

  “I’m heading out to market,” she told her mother, her voice tight. “Let me know when Dad comes home with the girls. I need to talk to him.”

  “You won’t tell him I said anything?” her mother asked.

  Shauntelle couldn’t even look at her. “I’m not promising you anything. I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

  She lifted the box, reminded herself to be careful in spite of her anger. Then she brought it out to her car and set it inside, beside all the other buns, bread and pies she was bringing to the market.

  She got into her car and, without a backward glance, left her parents’ place.

  But as she drove, the only thing that seemed to resonate in her mind was one question.

  Did Noah think she was a part of all this?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Thanks so much. I hope you enjoy.” Shauntelle tied a ribbon around the cake box and handed it to her most recent customer.

  “I’m excited about this,” Cass Kollier said, tucking the box in her portable cart. “Tabitha brought some of your squares and cakes to the vet clinic, and I knew I had to try them for myself.”

  “I hope you enjoy.”

  “I will, but I can tell you one thing—I’m not bringing this to work with me.”

  Shauntelle kept her smile in place as Cass left, then pulled in a weary breath. With that sale, all her inventory was gone, so she was done for the day.

  Thanks to the dreary weather, the market had moved into the old arena, which was a mixed blessing. It meant she didn’t have to worry about running into Noah. She had seen his distinctive red pickup parked there this morning and had prayed she wouldn’t see him, and so far she’d managed to avoid him.

  With a tired sigh, she bent over to pick up the now-empty containers when someone called her name.

  Shauntelle straightened, looking over her shoulder as her mother ran toward her, clutching her cell phone. “Shauntelle, something’s happened!” she shouted out, sounding frantic.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Her heart dropped like a rock at the fear on her mother’s face.

  “Your father. He just called. He’s stranded with the girls on the other side of Horseman Creek.”

  “What? How?”

  “The creek came up with all this rain. They went farther than he had planned, and now they’re stuck.”
<
br />   Shauntelle yanked her own phone out of her pocket while her mother went on about the creek rising and how they were unable to cross.

  She called her father, waiting, waiting, and then, finally, she got through.

  “Dad. What happened? Where are you?” she asked, trying not to panic.

  “Creek came up...can’t get across...stuck...” His voice kept breaking up.

  “Where are you now?”

  “Don’t know...”

  “How far up the valley did you go?” Shauntelle gripped the phone, her hands like ice and her heart thundering in her chest, keeping time with the rain that had started up an hour ago.

  She waited to hear something from her father, but all she heard was crackling. She repeated the question.

  “...about a mile...walked up a trail...river...can’t cross back...”

  “Stay on the line, Dad,” Shauntelle said, then lowered her phone. With trembling fingers she switched to an app her parents had recently installed on their phone and hers. It enabled them to find each other’s location.

  The app opened, and she tapped on her father’s name. At first all she saw was a square grid of lines and white, and then slowly, a picture appeared. And there it was. A pulsing circle giving her a vague idea of where her father might be. She took a screenshot of it, then zoomed out and took another just to be safe. It meant nothing to her. Hopefully someone else could decipher it.

  She returned to her father, thankful to still hear the crackling.

  “Stay where you are,” she said slowly and clearly, hoping her father heard her. She repeated the phrase, waiting, but there was no reply. “I’ll figure this out.”

  She turned to her mother, who was hovering behind her. “Let me use your phone,” she said, handing her phone to her mother. “Don’t hit any buttons,” she said.

  Shauntelle was about to dial 911 then stopped. The local police weren’t equipped for this scenario. They would forward the call to Search and Rescue. By the time they were mobilized, it would be another hour. She looked out at the rain now coming down in buckets. How long would it take before her children could be rescued?

  Noah would know where they are.