The Cowboy's Valentine Bride

by Patricia Johns

  The band stopped playing.

  The 4-H club float behind the potato float screeched to a halt. The kids holding on to the animals atop the float looked panic-stricken. The clowns stopped tossing candy into the crowd. Instead they stared in awe as the entire parade of decorated cars, trucks, tractors, another school band and an assortment of themed floats came to a grinding halt.

  As the chaos ensued all around Callie, she watched as cowboy Joel Darwood looked right at her with those smokin’ blue eyes of his, gave a little shake of his head, turned and swaggered off behind the crowd, holding a little girl tightly in his arms.

  * * *

  JOEL KNEW HE’D have to run into Callaghan Grant at some point now that he was living in Briggs, but never in a million years did he think she might literally run him over with an entire parade. He hadn’t expected her to have such an extreme reaction to his presence that she would cause a cataclysmic disaster in what was supposed to be a fun outing with his daughter and aunt.

  Fortunately, no one was hurt, not even the people who were trapped inside the bouncy russet potato costumes.

  Unfortunately, he was now officially scared to talk to Miss Russet Potato, aka Callaghan Grant. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t scared exactly, but certainly apprehensive. He remembered that Callaghan had always been somewhat high-strung, deliriously determined and incredibly resourceful, but this kind of disruptive behavior was way over the top. There was no telling what she might do when they physically met...push him under a tractor perhaps?

  From the alarmed look on her face, she just might be capable.

  “Callie seems a little intense,” Aunt Polly said once the parade had started up again. “Funny, but I don’t remember her being that unruly as a child.”

  Joel had guided his daughter and aunt to a spot on the sidewalk completely hidden from Callaghan’s view. Emma stood up front where Joel could keep an eye on her, but out of earshot from their conversation.

  “It was always Sarah who got them into trouble, never Callie,” Aunt Polly said. “She seemed cautious and reserved back then. Not that she wasn’t feisty—she was—but mostly it was Sarah who led the way, and Callie would follow. Of course, that was a lot of years ago. I think Sarah stopped coming out for the summers when they were around thirteen. I remember how heartbroken Callie was when Sarah didn’t show up that first summer.”

  “Maybe this was a mistake,” Joel said, rethinking his need for a fresh start. Surrounding himself and his daughter with livestock and open spaces rather than city folk and tall buildings had never been his dream, but he knew he’d had to suck up his self-serving ego and become the father that Emma deserved. Problem was he’d moved to the one town in the entire country he and Sarah had avoided for good reason.

  If anything he should have gone to a completely new town. Perhaps somewhere in Montana or Utah instead of Idaho, and more importantly, somewhere other than where Callaghan Grant lived.

  “What? No. Kids love parades. Besides, no one was hurt. Emma’s enjoying herself. I don’t think she’s traumatized over a few rolling human potatoes.”

  Polly had never been filled in on the details of Joel’s connection to Callaghan Grant. His wife had made a conscious decision to not tell her, and Joel had no reason to try to change Sarah’s mind. “I meant maybe this whole thing was a mistake...moving to Briggs with you.”

  Aunt Polly turned to face him just as another marching band was passing by, the music loud and persistent. “Have you seen the look on your daughter’s face?”

  Emma turned at that moment, holding her ears but grinning despite any discomfort she might have had from the music.

  “I know. I know. She seems to love it here,” Joel told her, having to admit the obvious.

  “It’s exactly where she belongs right now. You, too. And me! I’m happier than a pig in mud to be home again, and you made that possible.” She chuckled. “Ironic, but I used to hate living in this quirky little no-place town when my Daniel first moved me here from Boise. I thought I’d die of pitiful loneliness and boredom, but I didn’t. I adjusted while Daniel was alive. Once I was on my own again, I headed straight back to the city thinking I’d love it. For a long time I did, loved everything about it. Until a real emptiness set in, the kind of emptiness that weighs on you like an early frost in autumn, making everything cold and brittle. The ranch, this town and the people in it had taken root in my soul. Too bad it took me almost twelve years of living in Boise again to realize that. Now that I’m back, ain’t no way I’m ever leaving again.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have Callaghan Grant to deal with.”

  “The Grants were always an ornery bunch, especially when they were kids, but like this town, they grow on you, and after a while, you can’t shake either the Grants or anybody else in this town. They become part of who you are.”

  “If you say so.”

  Joel wasn’t buying any of it. The mood he was in, he’d just as soon pack up right now and drive away...but watching Emma laughing and waving to the other kids in the parade, he knew staying put was the right thing to do.

  Emma and her great-aunt had anticipated this parade for weeks and had even bought matching Western wear for the event, including Western hats. Emma had insisted on a pink one. Aunt Polly had drawn the line at a pink cowgirl hat, but otherwise the outfits were exactly the same: boot-cut jeans, blue checked shirts, wide leather belts with a shiny gold-colored buckle and brown boots. Ever since Emma had tried on her first pair of real cowgirl boots, she refused to wear anything else. Even when Aunt Polly managed to get a dress on her, she still wanted to wear her boots. If he didn’t know better, he would think his daughter had picked up some of Callaghan’s traits. Back in college, she rarely wore anything else on her feet. High heels or sneakers were the exception rather than the norm.

  “I’m surprised she recognized you,” Aunt Polly said.

  Joel had gone through a metamorphosis of sorts in the last few months. Not only had he shaved off his beard, he’d cut his hair short and swapped his ratty-looking clothes for new jeans, Western shirts and a gray cowboy hat. He was working on changing his negative disposition, as well. Flight used to be his standard reaction to a problem or situation he didn’t particularly want to deal with. Instead of handling the crisis, he’d leave the scene, hoping that by the time he returned—if he returned—the “crisis” would be resolved.

  He could no longer afford that luxury.

  He’d finally embraced the fact that he was a full-time single parent now, and his daughter depended on him not only for a decent roof over her head and food on the table, but for him to participate in her daily life. Instead of standing on the sidelines while one interchangeable babysitter after another raised her.

  Deciding to move to Briggs had only been the beginning of his transformation. Now he had to learn what it meant to stick around, even when times got tough.

  “The same can be said for Callaghan. She looked quite different in college. For one thing, her hair color was a lot lighter and she wore it shorter, sort of cropped tight against her neck.”

  Joel didn’t want to mention how her body had changed, as well. She was a petite little thing in college, constantly worried about how many calories she ate on any given day. They’d had long discussions over her food intake, which wasn’t much, while he’d tried to get her to eat a cheeseburger or drink a milk shake to get some meat on her bones. At one point he worried she might be suffering from anorexia.

  Not anymore.

  Callaghan now had the shapely body of a woman, a round and supple woman, instead of that wisp of a girl he’d known in college. Back then she prided herself on still being able to get into the same jeans she’d worn as a young teen.

  Things had apparently changed.

  Her raven-black hair now draped over her shoulders, cascading down her back in soft c
urls. He liked this new Callaghan Grant...maybe a little too much. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking such things, especially in light of all the pain he and his wife had caused her with their reckless behavior.

  He had no room in his life for a relationship with any woman, and most assuredly not with Callaghan Grant, who undoubtedly still hated him.

  “Oh, Daddy, look at all those bunnies and baby goats. I love baby goats, Daddy.” Emma had turned slightly, grabbed Joel’s hand and pulled him closer. The 4-H club float passed by and as it did, Emma clapped her hands and stood on her toes trying to get a better look.

  “You do? I didn’t know that,” Joel said.

  Then he swung her up onto his shoulders, giving her a clear view. Her little arms encircled his head, one hand patting his cheek. His heart always melted whenever Emma showed him any affection, almost as if it took him by surprise.

  “I didn’t know it either until just now. And baby pigs, too. And bunnies, I really love bunnies, Daddy.”

  He hadn’t seen her get so excited about anything in months. He didn’t want it to end, at least not yet. They followed the float as it made its way up the street in front of the local firefighters and military personnel, everyone waving and smiling. Fortunately, there was no sign of Callaghan anywhere. He wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation. Not while his daughter seemed so interested in something other than the Elsa doll her mom had given her last summer.

  When the float finally stopped, Joel immediately slipped her off his shoulders. They headed in closer to get a better look at the animals as some of the kids from the float along with a group of adults began off-loading them into cages from the back of a blue pickup truck.

  “Can I pet one, Daddy? Can I?” Emma asked as Joel held on to her hand. Aunt Polly had stayed back, chatting with an old friend, Traci Sargent, a contemporary who seemed genuinely happy to see her. They had hugged and fussed over each other for at least five full minutes. From what Joel could make out, they’d been friends since Polly first arrived in Briggs...a fact that Joel missed in his life. His family had moved around Boise so much that he was never able to make long-lasting friends.

  He hoped that wouldn’t be the case for Emma.

  Wade Porter, a rough-and-tumble cowboy in his early thirties was there, as well, fussing over Polly like he always did. Wade had leased Polly’s grazing land for his horses and had kept an eye on things while renters were living in the ranch house and then during the years the house was empty. The dude seemed to attract women of all ages no matter where he went, and so far, Joel had no use for the guy and had taken an immediate disliking to him. Wade was too nice, too accommodating and much too helpful. Joel suspected there was some other motive running through him rather than pure friendliness...but so far, Joel couldn’t make out what that other motive might be.

  “If they’ll let you, sure,” Joel told Emma, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  Being this close to farm animals was new to Joel and his five-year-old daughter. He’d grown up in a city and had rarely wandered into the country. The closest he’d ever come to a farm animal was at the county fair when he’d walk through some of the tents, and even then, the calves, pigs and rabbit were either in a pen of some kind or locked inside a cage.

  Besides, he never had an interest in those kinds of animals. He was more of a dog kind of guy, a husky or a retriever.

  Emma, on the other hand, seemed to be all about baby goats and bunnies, especially the long-eared type of bunnies. There were two on the float—one was a deep orange color while the other was a dappled black-and-white. One ear of the dappled one was black along with one eye, and the rest of its body was mostly white with some speckled black. Joel had to admit, these little guys were possibly the cutest creatures he’d ever seen. Emma approached the boy holding the black-and-white bunny.

  Other kids who had watched the parade had gathered around a white goat on a leash and a baby pig that tried its best to wiggle out of the arms of one of the young boys who was trying his best to hold on to the small creature.

  “Oh, Daddy, she’s so soft,” Emma said as she cautiously ran her hand over the bunny’s fat, round body. The boy, around ten or twelve, held the bunny as it rested in his arms, the bunny looking about as content as a kitten in the sun.

  “His name is Wheezy. He’s five months old and we’ve been training him to hop over hurdles,” the boy told Emma. “He loves to jump, and he loves to be petted and played with.”

  “Do you play with him a lot?”

  The boy nodded. “Whenever I can. He has four brothers and three sisters so sometimes it’s hard to get to all of them.”

  “I don’t have any bunnies. My daddy likes dogs, but I like bunnies.”

  “We have a dog, too, and chickens, and a lot of horses.”

  “We have horses, but I’d rather have a bunny.” Emma couldn’t seem to stop loving Wheezy, and as time passed she became more confident petting him. Until this moment, Joel hadn’t considered that Emma might want a pet of her own. Yet another example of how woefully remiss he’d been in raising his daughter. The guilt would sometimes overwhelm him, but he’d learned how to pull himself back from the self-pity pit by making sure he was now 100 percent engaged in his current life...which was something he was still working on.

  Emma glanced back at Joel, beaming, looking for his approval, which he gave with a hearty smile and nod.

  Joel’s heart swelled as he watched Emma ease in closer to the bunny, giving it long, gentle strokes. The boy holding the bunny kept chatting with Emma, asking her name and talking about the furry creature. Normally, his Emma barely spoke to other children, but for some reason, as she stroked the soft animal, she chatted up a storm. The boy, Buddy Granger, told Emma all about Wheezy, the medium-sized Holland lop, and the rest of the animals on his family’s ranch, which was also some sort of riding school. Emma stood riveted to every word.

  Ever since they had moved to the Double S Ranch, his daughter’s entire demeanor had changed. Little by little, she was coming out of her shell, and the animals were helping. Aunt Polly had already brought in a couple horses, and two stray tabby cats had taken up residency inside the barn. Plus, he’d been thinking about adding a puppy to the mix soon, and now that he knew his daughter liked bunnies, he might consider building a bunny hutch to the vast array of projects that required his attention.

  He knew living on a ranch was going to be a challenge, but he never dreamed it would be an endless string of physical work. Callaghan hadn’t talked much about ranching or her Miss Russet title when they were dating...too tangled up with school activities, he supposed. Back then their days seemed to be consumed with class, homework, school activities and sex...lots of sex, until everything changed on the turn of a dime.

  He cautiously looked around trying to spot Callaghan in the crowd, and so far the coast seemed clear. Although in a small town like this, he felt as though everyone already knew all about the sordid details of their breakup in college...and he was most certainly the bad guy in their version.

  Which, to some extent, he was, but he refused to think about any of that now. At the moment, his total focus was centered on his daughter and her happiness. Every choice he made was entirely for her benefit, and if that included having to openly take the fall for what happened between him and Callaghan back in college so the citizens of Briggs would accept him and his daughter, then so be it.

  He was out of options.

  This was his last stop. He had to make it work no matter what he had to do to appease his ex. Briggs, Idaho, was her hometown. Her family and friends lived here, and despite everything that had happened, he would find a way to make peace with the girl he still cared about.

  Copyright © 2017 by Mary Leo

  ISBN-13: 9781488010637

  The Cowboy’s Valentine Bride

  Copyright © 2017 by Patty Froe
se Ntihemuka

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