A Cowboy for the Twins

by Carolyne Aarsen

  The thought rose up, but she stifled it with her own objections. Noah would have nothing to do with her now. Not after what her parents had just done.

  It’s not for you; it’s for your children. Your daughters and your father need his help.

  Pride had no place in this situation.

  “I’m going over to the arena,” Shauntelle said.

  “Why?” her mother asked.

  “Because Noah is there. And he’ll know what to do.”

  “No. You need to call the police.” Her mother’s voice was shrill with panic, and she grabbed her arm.

  “By the time I call the police, it will take too long to get everything in motion.”

  “But Noah—”

  Shauntelle had had enough of her mother’s critical attitude toward Noah. “Noah is the best person to help Dad get out of this predicament he got my daughters in.” She knew her voice was rising with a mixture of anger and panic. Her mother’s shocked expression underlined that. “I will get him and he will get the job done because that’s the person he is. I don’t want to hear another word against him, Mother.”

  Without looking to see if she was coming, Shauntelle strode out the door and into the rain toward the arena. Once inside, she waylaid the first worker she saw, asking where Noah was.

  “He’s up there,” the young man said, backing away. Shauntelle realized she must look like a madwoman, but she didn’t care.

  Shauntelle glanced around, and then saw him. Her heart folded in her chest as she watched his tall figure bent over a table, discussing something with Kyle.

  How could she face him? How could she dare ask him for help after what her parents had done?

  Swallow your pride, she told herself. It’s not for you; it’s for your daughters.

  He straightened as she ran up the stairs to the top level of the arena. She knew the moment he saw her, because his hands dropped on his hips, and he looked from her to her mother trailing behind her.

  His mouth grew tight, and his eyes hard. It broke her heart to see how he retreated from her. But she didn’t blame him one bit.

  “I’m sorry to have to ask you this,” she gasped as she reached him. “But I need your help.”

  “With what?”

  Again, she pushed aside her doubts and her own concerns and plunged right in.

  “My father took the twins on a hike up the Horseman Creek. It came up with all the rain, and now they’re stranded on the other side.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “By the time they mobilize Search and Rescue, it might be too late.” Desperation had entered her voice. “Horseman Creek runs through your ranch and I figured you would know better where my father is and how to help him, Millie and Margaret.”

  Noah held her gaze for a moment, then, to her relief, gave her a tight nod. “Okay. I can do that for your daughters.”

  The fine distinction created another quiver of guilt. She wanted to tell him she’d known nothing about the lawsuit. But now was not the time.

  “I have a screenshot of their last location,” she said, pulling out her phone.

  Her fingers were shaking as she swiped through to the screenshot. Noah stood beside her, bent over her phone, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave and the ever-present smell of cut wood that always surrounded him. Her heart tumbled, and her breath caught in her throat. In spite of everything that was happening, she wanted to lean against him and let him hold her up.

  But she had no right.

  “I know exactly where they are,” Noah said, creating a flurry of relief inside her.

  “What are you going to do?” Shauntelle asked.

  “I’m going to the ranch. I’ll take a couple of horses to get them.”

  “Thank you so much,” Shauntelle breathed, knowing those feeble words were not enough for what he was about to do. She had no right to expect any help from him. But now it wasn’t about her and him. As he’d said, it was about her daughters.

  He turned and jogged down the stairs. Shauntelle turned to her mother. “I need to go along with him. Can you find your own ride home?”

  “Someone from the Farmer’s Market will take me home, I’m sure.”

  “Okay. We’ll stay in touch.”

  “You be careful,” her mother said.

  “Always,” Shauntelle said. “Besides, I’ll be with Noah. I’m sure I’ll be safe.”

  She added a heavy emphasis to those words, as if to remind her mother where her allegiance lay. Then she ran to catch up to the man she trusted the most to take care of her daughters.

  * * *

  Shauntelle followed him all the way to the ranch. Did she plan on coming along on the rescue?

  Noah parked his truck by the corrals and stepped out into the driving rain, squinting against it as Shauntelle pulled up beside him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. I won’t be responsible for your safety.”

  “I need to come along,” she repeated, raindrops sliding down her face. “Please.”

  He looked at her and, in spite of the circumstances, could still feel a thrill of appeal, a lingering yearning for her company. He had missed her with an ache that consumed him, and he hated it.

  And now she stood in front of him, pleading.

  While his practical side said no, it was her daughters and father stranded out there. He had handled enough cows and horses to know the protectiveness of a mother. He couldn’t imagine what she was dealing with, and knew being left behind would be more difficult for her than coming along.

  He grabbed two bridles and handed them to her. “You take these, I’ll get the saddles.”

  He caught the horses and tacked them up in record time. It was surprising how quickly the old movements came back. Buckle, tie, slip, tug and adjust the cinches. He had often done this under pressure, and in a hurry. But he also knew enough to double-check everything. Make sure the cinches were tight enough and the bridles buckled up properly. Everything solid and secure.

  “I need you to mount up so I can adjust the stirrups,” he said to Shauntelle, holding out his hand to her. He helped her up into the saddle, and in spite of the tension between them and the pressure of the situation, he couldn’t stop the twist of his heart at her touch.

  He turned his focus back to the stirrups, loosening the buckle and sliding it up, then he did the other side. “Check this out—make sure you can stand up in the stirrups, and that you can clear the saddle.”

  It all looked good.

  “Now you need some gloves, a better slicker and a hat,” he said. Then turned and strode to the house.

  He saw his mother watching them through the kitchen window, and he hoped she wouldn’t ask questions.

  When he’d left for Vancouver the second time, all he told her was that things had changed and he wouldn’t be home for a while. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her he wasn’t taking over the ranch anytime soon.

  He stepped inside the entrance and pulled open the door of a cupboard that held a variety of coats and hats. To his surprise, he found an older coat of his, one he’d worn when he was much younger. He couldn’t believe his mother still had it. As he opened another cupboard, sure enough, his mother joined them.

  “What are you doing? Surely you’re not going out riding in this rain?” she asked.

  “Shauntelle’s daughters and her father are stranded across Horseman Creek, and we’re rescuing them.”

  Noah handed Shauntelle a pair of gloves that would probably be too big for her, a hat that seemed to fit and then the coat. Without a word to him, or even a glance his way, she put everything on.

  “But this is terrible weather,” his mother cried out.

  “And that’s why we have to go help them,” Noah said. “Everyt
hing will be fine, but can you please pray for us?”

  “Of course, and always.” His mother walked over and put her hand on Shauntelle’s shoulder. “You be careful out there,” she said. “But you can trust that Noah will take good care of you. Listen to what he tells you.”

  His mother’s assurances gave him a tiny glow. Sure, it was his mother, but the affirmation still felt good.

  “I’ve got my phone with me,” Noah said. “But I don’t know how good the reception will be down by the creek. So don’t worry if you hear nothing for a while.”

  His mother nodded and stepped back.

  He marched out the door and down the steps, Shauntelle behind him, their feet rattling the wood, and slogged through the mud to where the horses stood waiting.

  He untied one horse, gave her the reins and she mounted up. But before he climbed on his horse, he looked up at her. “We’ll get them. Don’t worry about that. They’re okay for now. We just have to cross that river.”

  She gave a tight nod, then he vaulted up in his saddle, grabbed the reins, gave his horse a nudge in his flank and trotted out.

  They stayed on the road for a few kilometers, then ducked into a trail he and his father had cut years ago. He knew where he was going, heading for the widest and most shallow portion of the creek. Thankfully the rain had eased off and was now only a slight drizzle. But it still made for miserable riding. He wondered how Millie, Margaret and Shauntelle’s father were faring. Noah hoped he knew enough to find shelter for them. He also hoped he hadn’t moved too far from where they first tracked him. Noah checked his phone, but he had no bars. He had hoped that, should things not go well, he could still contact the police to mobilize Search and Rescue.

  They followed the overgrown trail, and in spite of the low-hanging trees and encroaching willows, it was still easy to follow. From time to time he looked behind him to see how Shauntelle was doing. She had her head down, her hat pulled low, and all he saw of her was her lips pressed together.

  He turned his attention back to the trail, keeping the horse to a slow but steady trot.

  After what felt like aeons, they came to the creek and he realized why Shauntelle’s father and the girls couldn’t cross. The creek was twice as high as normal and rushing, in full flood, carrying logs and debris.

  They rode farther upstream and thankfully, the place he wanted to cross was shallower and passable. Noah pulled his horse up, waiting for Shauntelle to catch up. He turned to her, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

  “This is where you stay behind,” he said, his voice firm. In charge.

  “No.”

  It was a single word, but spoken with implacable force. Noah guessed from the determined look on her face that even if he were to insist, she would follow him anyway.

  He looked from her to the creek, now swollen to twice its depth. He had to find a safe way to do this.

  Would her parents file another lawsuit if something went wrong?

  He waited a moment, planning his trip.

  “Just make sure you let the horse choose its own path,” he warned her. “He’ll know what to do.” Then he turned, clucked to his horse and started across the creek.

  * * *

  Shauntelle fought down a beat of panic, wondering if she should follow. But her horse was already stepping into the creek.

  One step. Then another. Shauntelle kept her eyes fixed on Noah ahead of her as he made his way. The water was now up to the stirrups of his saddle.

  Please, Lord, keep us safe, she prayed, pleading as she clung to the saddle horn. She wasn’t leading the horse at all now, just hanging on.

  Step-by-step they worked their way through the surging water. Now and again Shauntelle felt her horse lose its footing, but quickly recover. Each time her heart leaped into her throat.

  Noah glanced back a couple of times and gave her a tight nod of encouragement.

  Then, finally, the water seemed shallower, and they were closer to the opposite bank. A few more steps and the horses plunged through the last of the water and up the soggy side and into the trees.

  Noah stopped, looking back as Shauntelle came up beside him.

  “You okay?” he asked, his hat pulled low, moisture dripping down his face.

  She nodded, giving him a tight smile.

  “It will be narrow through the next bit. I’m taking a shortcut to the trail your father was heading down. Just follow me.”

  “Of course” was all she could say.

  “We’ll find them,” he said with an encouraging look. “We’ve gotten through the worst part. You did good.”

  He clucked to his horse, and again the horses picked their way around and over fallen trees. But at least they were on dry ground.

  As she rode, Shauntelle gazed through the falling rain, trying to see, straining to hear anything from her father or daughters. But all she heard was the sound of the rain pattering on the leaves and the gentle plod of the horses’ hooves on the wet ground.

  After what seemed like hours, they came to a clearing. Noah stopped and pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket, probably checking the picture that Shauntelle had sent him. He looked up, shot a quick glance back over his shoulder at her. All she could manage was a faint smile, then he turned away again, turned his horse to the left and headed along the edge of the clearing.

  Once again he seemed to know where he was going. He looked up from time to time and then down at his phone.

  And then her heart jumped as she heard the faint cries of her daughters. They grew louder as they moved along, and finally she could see her father in the open, watching them come.

  The girls burst out of the greenery behind him and ran to Noah, calling out his name. And then they saw Shauntelle behind her, and for some inexplicable reason, they covered their faces with their hands and cried.

  The universal reaction of a daughter in distress upon seeing her mother.

  Shauntelle jumped off the horse so quickly she almost fell, and disregarding anything else, she ran straight to the girls, relief, joy and extreme gratitude flowing through her. She snatched them both into her arms, holding their little wet bodies close. They shivered with the cold. All she could do was thank the Lord that they were safe.

  She kissed their wet cheeks and stroked their hair, and then pulled her coat off, trying to wrap it around both of them. Noah joined her, kneeling beside her daughters, pulling off his coat as well.

  He slipped his over Millie and buttoned it up, then adjusted Shauntelle’s coat over Margaret.

  “You girls okay?” he asked. “Not hurt at all?”

  “No. Just scared,” Millie said. “Grandpa was keeping us safe, but he was scared too.”

  “We better get going before the girls get much colder,” Noah said. He lifted Millie up into his arms. Then he turned to Shauntelle’s father.

  “How are you, sir?” he asked.

  Her father looked rather shamefaced but also extremely relieved. “I’m fine.”

  Shauntelle didn’t know which emotions to process first. She was angry with him for putting her daughters in jeopardy, and yet so relieved that everyone was okay.

  Noah walked over to the horse and lifted Millie up on his back, showing her how to hold the saddle horn. “Put Margaret on your horse,” he said to Shauntelle, “and I’ll lead them till we get to the creek.” He glanced at her father. “I’d like you to ride with Millie. It will help keep her warm.”

  Her father nodded and, with Noah’s help, got on the horse.

  Then Noah started walking. To her surprise the ride back to the river seemed to take less time, and soon they were standing on the riverbank.

  Noah turned to Shauntelle. “I’ll ride with Millie, and you can follow me.” Then to her father, “I’m sorry, sir, but I’ll have to come back for you.”

  Again her father nodded.r />
  Then Noah climbed aboard his horse behind Millie, slipped his arm around her and nudged the horse. It stepped into the raging creek.

  Shauntelle was dismayed to see it was even higher than before. She had to fight down her own concern and trepidation as they made their way across.

  The horses seemed to walk more slowly than they had on the way here. Of course, their load was heavier.

  Noah let his horse have its head, and Shauntelle did the same. Her heart leaped into her throat when the horse set a foot wrong and slipped, stumbling and falling to one side. She imagined her and Margaret getting washed down the creek, but then it regained its footing and started again.

  Finally the horses were on the opposite riverbank, and when they got to the other side, Noah lifted Millie off the horse, set her down and knelt beside her, tugging his coat closer around her. Shauntelle dismounted as well, guessing that her father would need to ride her horse. Without another word to her, Noah got on his horse, then walked across the creek again.

  “Will Grandpa be okay?” Millie asked, her teeth chattering.

  “He will.”

  “He will be with Noah, silly,” Margaret said, shivering.

  Shauntelle couldn’t keep her eyes off Noah as he led the horse to the other side, then brought her father back.

  When they were reunited, the girls hugged their grandfather and cried some more, and then Noah was lifting them onto the horses again.

  “Why don’t you get on behind Margaret again,” Noah said to Shauntelle, then turned to her father. “And you should get on behind Millie.

  “It’s the best way to keep each other warm. I’ll be walking so I’ll be okay. We’ll make better time that way.”

  Noah waited until everyone was mounted up, and then he took the reins of the horses and walked along the bank.

  After a while the trees grew sparser, and they came to open fields and fences. They walked along the fences for a little while, turned a corner, and then, to Shauntelle’s relief and gratitude, there stood the ranch buildings and the ranch house. Shauntelle had never been so happy to see a house in her life. They walked up to the corrals, and Noah tied up the horses as they all dismounted.