Marrying My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  Her dark, straight hair hid half her face from him and he wanted to wake her with a kiss, but wanted her to sleep, too. They hadn’t exactly gotten much rest last night and his mouth twitched with self-deprecating humor as he quietly eased out of the bed. Turning, he tucked the bedding against Maud’s long, graceful back and over her shoulders to keep her warm. Tiptoeing out of the room, he gently closed the door to the bathroom. Time for a shower, a shave, and start preparing to leave around noontime for Africa.

  By the time he’d washed his hair, taken a good, bracing hot shower, and was towel drying off afterward, Maud came stumbling sleepily into the bathroom. A huge cloud of steamy humidity rushed out of the open door. She shut it quickly, wanting to keep the warmth inside the huge room. She smiled and pushed hair away from her face.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked, hanging the towel on a hook and retrieving his dark green flannel shirt, pulling it across his shoulders.

  “No, I just woke up on my own. What time is it?” She located his watch on the counter, picked it up, and squinted to see the clock hands. “Eight a.m. We overslept.”

  Chuckling, he pulled on his Levi’s. Sitting on the edge of the tub, next came a pair of thick, dark cotton socks. “We didn’t exactly get eight hours of sleep, did we?” he said, and he smiled up at her. Maud had pulled on her fuzzy purple bathrobe, which fell to her slippered feet.

  “No, but it was really, really nice,” she said, and she reached out to touch his damp hair. “No regrets.”

  “Want a shower?” he asked, standing and then leaning down to kiss her lips.

  “I need coffee first,” she muttered sleepily.

  “How about I get the coffeemaker downstairs, load it up, and bring it up here and plug it in. It’s the only place where we have electricity.”

  “That would be wonderful. . . .”

  He placed his hand on the brass doorknob. “I’ll bring up the Coffee-Mate and sugar and spoons, too.”

  “Good,” she murmured, shucking out of the robe and hanging it on a hook on the door. “Thank you, lifesaver.. . .”

  He smiled, slipped out of the door, and shut it.

  Maud sighed and stepped into the shower, shutting the glass door. In no time, she had a lovely, very warm stream of water against her skin. She washed her hair, luxuriating in the warmth of the water pouring across her face and closed eyes. Her heart lingered on Steve, and that he was leaving her at noon today. A small pain went through her as she stepped out of the shower, placed a towel over her hair, and grabbed a second one to dry herself off. As she was using a hair dryer and brush, the door opened. In came a cup of coffee and Steve behind it.

  “Oh, my hero,” Maud whispered, setting the hair dryer down, turning and taking the cup from his extended hand. She took several sips, made a humming sound in the back of her throat, closed her eyes, and savored the coffee that had creamer and sugar in it.

  Shutting the door, Steve leaned against it, thumbs in his pockets, smiling. “You are now officially saved, my lady.”

  Opening her eyes, Maud grinned grudgingly, her hands warming around the tall white ceramic mug. “You are my knight in shining armor, Sir Steve. Thank you. This tastes so good!”

  He looked at his watch. “We promised Mom and Dad that we’d join them for breakfast. Can you be ready to leave in half an hour?”

  “Oh, yes, no worries.” She set the cup aside and slid her arms around his shoulders, kissing him soundly and for a long time.

  “You taste like coffee and honey,” he murmured against her lips, sliding his arms around her waist and hips. “I’m going to miss this.”

  “Me too.”

  He stared down into her sad-looking gaze. “It’s not forever. Just two years. And I’ll be back home four times a year, for a full month, each time. You’re going to be busier than a one-armed paper hanger, Maud. There’s so much to learn about ranching.”

  “I’m sure I will.” She caressed his shaven cheek. “When our home is finished, it’s going to be awfully large and awfully lonely. It will be just me here.”

  “I know,” he murmured. “We’re both going to be lonely for each other.”

  She moved back, turned, and looked in the mirror, fluffing her recently dried hair. It was straight, so it always fell nicely, barely brushing her shoulders. It took her another fifteen minutes to get dressed and put on her snow boots. She stepped out and saw Steve taking down the blankets from across the windows. She spotted their heavy winter coats lying at the end of the bed. Glancing at the rumpled bedcover, knowing that she would no longer feel his male warmth against her at night when she went to bed, Maud picked up her coat. Her heart ached already with the loss of Steve in her everyday life. She’d grown so used to having him around. And now this. Steve helped her into her coat. Deciding not to dwell on how she was feeling inwardly, Maud thanked him. They hurried down the stairs, still unvarnished wood.

  The entire lower area was chilly, her breath like little clouds ejecting from her mouth as they left the cabin and moved into the attached garage. Climbing into the pickup, Steve drove them down the wintery road toward the main staging area of the ranch where his parents lived.

  The morning was like a million diamonds glistening beneath the sunlight, each conifer wearing a glowing snow gown magically sparkling against the white of the covered earth and blinding light blue of the cloudless sky above them.

  As they drove up to the U-shaped drive and parked in front of the house, there were lots of winter birds at Lydia’s huge seed feeder. A number of woodpeckers were at the nearby suet container. Maud decided she wanted one of those bird feeders at their home, too. The cold went to thirty below on some days, which could pretty much kill any bird in the area.

  Tramping through the snowpack across the graveled area, Steve opened the white picket fence gate leading to red bricks that had been swept clean. In no time, they were inside the toasty warm house. Sam met them and helped Maud off with her coat, hanging it on a nearby peg. She thanked him and hurried to the kitchen, seeing Lydia was busy making many stacks of buckwheat pancakes. The kitchen smelled wonderful!

  “What can I do to help, Lydia?” she asked, leaning over, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “See all that food on the counter? Just take it to the dining room table. I’m just about done here.”

  “Gotcha,” Maud said, scooping up a casserole of eggs mixed with chopped bacon, onion, cheddar cheese, and red pimentos, plus a large platter with at least fifteen hot, steaming pancakes on it.

  Steve came in and picked up the butter and syrup, and followed her. Sam brought a cold pitcher of orange juice from the fridge.

  Steve drew out the chair for his mother. Sam pulled out the chair for Maud, and then they sat down. They all clasped hands, bowed their heads while Lydia said a short, heartfelt prayer. He always liked that he’d been taught to be grateful for everything put on their table because out in this harsh, demanding country that was so beautiful, people and animals lived and died—a stark reminder that life was tenuous at best. He’d grown up appreciating every meal, the smell of it, the taste of it, and had been raised on this mind-set by his grandparents, who struggled to survive the Great Depression. It hadn’t been lost on his parents, who were raised to value every morsel of food, and to make something out of it to eat. Nothing was ever wasted. Nothing was ever thrown away. A roof overhead wasn’t taken for granted, either. His grandparents had lived in a canvas tent as they escaped the Dust Bowl and went west to California.

  “Did you like your freezing night in your bedroom?” Lydia asked, passing the syrup after she poured some on her two pancakes.

  “My nose was cold,” Maud admitted, taking the bottle. “But I was warm under that comforter you gave us.”

  Sam nodded, buttering six pancakes in a stack on his plate. He was going to be going outside and work in the harsh cold even though the sun was shining. Cold stole a lot of energy away from everyone and a top-notch breakfast protected him from that loss. “Maud, did
you know that Lydia made that comforter you used ten years ago?”

  “No,” she said, passing the syrup across the table to Steve.

  “Well, you can have it,” Lydia said. “I have another one that I made two years ago on our bed. A goose down comforter just can’t be beat.”

  “And you have heat in your house,” Maud said wryly, cutting into the fragrant pancakes, her mouth watering. For several minutes, all she could hear was the clink of silverware against the plates. The casserole of eggs was a great pairing as far as she was concerned. Amazed that Sam ate such a huge meal compared to her own, she had come to realize over the summers just how hard and constantly wranglers work outdoors. Steve had three pancakes on his plate. She and Lydia had two apiece.

  Halfway through the breakfast, Lydia brought a coffee cake out of the oven, placing it on a trivet and cutting it up. That would be dessert. The scent of cinnamon wafted into the air. When Sam was done with his towering stack of pancakes, he got up and brought over coffee cups and poured strong black joe into each cup. Maud inhaled deeply, loving the scent of the freshly percolated coffee. Lydia gathered chicory, a weed with blue flowers that grew around the area, and pulled up the roots. She cleaned the roots off and dried them and cut them up into fine little chunks. This was coffee for the Depression Era poor. No one could afford to buy ground coffee and her grandmother had discovered it made a tasty cup of non-coffee. It was free and anyone could pick it, dry the roots, and crush them, and then “coffee” could be drunk. She had shared that trick with Maud, who genuinely liked the coffee-chicory mixture. Last year, Lydia had shown her the chicory growing in the area. They’d pulled a bunch from each huge patch around the ranch house, and then Lydia showed her how to dry the roots. After they were dried, Lydia cut them up almost as fine as coffee grounds. Now? She couldn’t think of coffee without chicory in it, the tastes all enhanced and delicious. She also found out that in New Orleans, chicory was mixed with coffee.

  “You packed yet?” Sam asked his son.

  “Not yet. Getting there.”

  Lydia frowned. “We’re going to miss you terribly, Steve.” She reached over, patting Maud’s forearm. “But we’ll make sure she’s cared for and has lots to do.”

  Sam said, “Why don’t we have our dessert and coffee in the living room?”

  Great idea, Maud thought. She looked forward to sitting with Steve’s parents. Every time they did that, she learned more and more about Steve and his growing-up years through the stories they shared with her. Maud helped Sam clear the table. Steve took the coffee cups down to the coffee table. Lydia cut up the coffee cake and Steve took the saucers and forks down, as well. By the time Maud and his father were done clearing the kitchen table, everyone gathered on the two couches that faced each other, the red and gold cedar coffee table sitting between them.

  Maud sat down, looking to her left at the roaring blaze in the main fireplace. She would never tire of the crackle, snapping, and pop of the wood that wranglers had chopped for their three fireplaces in the house. She’d even tried her hand at chopping wood and found it a lot tougher than she realized. Over the past summer, she’d join Steve out at the huge woodpile and put in an hour’s worth of chopping with him every few days. Everyone worked; there were no lazy people on a ranch, that was for sure!

  She loved sitting next to Steve, enjoying the discussion, the cake and coffee. When they were done, Steve said, “Stay here. I’ve got something for you . . .” and he rose, giving his parents a smile. They smiled back like they were sharing a well-known secret that she didn’t have a clue about.

  Curious, Maud watched Steve walk down the hall toward the end where the washer-and-dryer room was located.

  “Now, Maud,” Lydia urged, “close your eyes. Steve has a surprise for you. . . .”

  “Really?”

  “Close your eyes,” Lydia urged excitedly, beaming.

  Maud nodded and put her hands over her closed eyes. She could hear the sound of Steve’s boots thunking down the hall, and then heard a door being opened and closed. His boot echoes were coming closer to where she sat. What was it? What was the surprise? She heard Lydia giggle and Sam chuckle. How bad she wanted to open her eyes! She felt Steve sit down next to her, the cushion dipping slightly next to hers.

  “Open your eyes, Maud,” Steve said.

  She did so, now wildly curious. As soon as he set the fuzzy, warm, wriggling thing into her hands, her eyes flew open.

  “A puppy!” she gasped, her eyes going wide as her fingers curled around the fluffy, curled white hair.

  Steve cupped her hands around the puppy. “This is Gracie. She’s a very rare, white golden retriever and she’s eight weeks old.” He looked deeply into Maud’s gaze. “I didn’t want you to go home to an empty cabin, sweet woman. Every rancher has at least one dog, and usually more than one, in their home. Gracie was born in a litter of my father’s friend Hector. She was the only white one. The rest were gold colored.” He gave her a wobbly smile, his eyes glistening. “Gracie is as rare as you are. And goldens are known far and wide for being loyal and loving people dogs. She will keep you company so you won’t be lonely, Maud. This is my parting gift from me to you. . . .”

  Gracie yipped and leaped from Maud’s cupped hands, landing on her chest. She licked her jaw and neck, nuzzling beneath her chin, wanting to be cradled and held. Maud didn’t disappoint her. Sniffing, she saw the tears in Steve’s eyes, knowing the parting was just as painful for him as it was for her. She held the wriggling puppy, who stopped whining once she cossetted her against the warmth of her body.

  “She’s perfect, Steve . . . just perfect,” she managed, her voice cracking. “And beautiful . . .”

  Steve caressed her hair. “Like you. And I bought Gracie from Hector precisely because that pup’s color was different. You’re different, too, but in the best of ways.” He stroked Gracie’s head with his index finger. “She’ll be a good friend to you, Maud. She’ll take some of the loneliness away from you while I’m gone.”

  Lydia came over, making clucking sounds as she leaned over, gently petting Gracie’s head. “We just got her yesterday, Maud. Steve was having a heck of a time keeping her a secret. She’s such a cute little tyke!”

  Sam chuckled. “Maud? Lydia is already spoiling Gracie.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “I’m sure I will, too,” she said, leaning upward and giving Steve a kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered to him. “This is just the best gift,” she said, and she looked down at Gracie, who was utterly at home in her hands, snuggled up beneath her chin.

  “That pup knows home,” Sam said, nodding sagely. “She’s going to be a good companion for you, Maud.”

  Lydia stood up, giving her son a loving look. “Gracie will be wonderful with any children you have, too. They are such people dogs. They live to be with humans.”

  “That’s good to know. I wasn’t raised around dogs and cats like you were.” Maud gave Sam and Lydia a searching look. “You’ll help me with Gracie?”

  “Of course, honey,” Lydia said, patting her shoulder.

  “We’re old hands at having animals around us,” Sam assured her, a twinkle in his eyes.

  Steve gave her a warm smile. “In a year’s time, Gracie will become your best friend.”

  “She can’t replace you, though,” Maud said, kissing the top of Gracie’s fluffy white head.

  “No, but she’ll make your life feel more whole,” he said. “I’ve always had a dog since I could remember.”

  “You went six years without one,” she reminded him.

  “Not because I wanted to,” he admitted. “Dogs completed me. I truly yearned to have one at Princeton, but there was no way to make it happen.”

  “Well,” Sam said, his voice deep with confidence, “when you come home for visits from Africa, I’m sure Gracie will be happy to include you in her family.”

  Maud laughed. “That’s probably truer than we know, Sam.”

  “Steve and Sam
bought a nice, woven willow basket for Gracie from the Beckers’ Feed and Seed store. It’s on the service porch. It’s nice and warm for her and I put one of my very old towels in it so she had something to snuggle into.”

  “You might want to have her in your bedroom,” Steve said. “Gracie will feel abandoned if you lock her in the service porch every night and she’s away from the person she loves.”

  “Okay, I can make that happen. But you don’t put her in bed with you, do you?”

  “No,” Lydia said. “She’ll be happy to be in her willow basket bed near your bed. She just needs to feel you’re not that far away from her.”

  “Makes sense,” Maud whispered, giving Steve a loving look. “She’s priceless. And perfect.” Reaching out, she gripped Steve’s hand, watching the love burn in his eyes for her alone. His thoughtfulness of getting her a puppy who could grow up with her here at the ranch as she learned how to run one was a brilliant idea.

  “I’m sure Gracie will keep you fully occupied,” Steve said, lifting her hand and kissing the back of it.

  “It will be great to write to you about how Gracie is doing. I’ll be sure to send photos, too.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Maud knew that Steve would be very busy over in Africa. He was setting up an empire of sorts, a global one, where his house designs could be used everywhere. Two years was a long time, but his visiting during those years, eased her sadness over him leaving her. He loved her so much that he’d thought of a way to short-circuit some of her loneliness.

  Her heart swelled fiercely with love for this man who was selfless and loving toward her. Maud didn’t know what kind of life lay ahead for them, but she was hopeful because his parents, as well as her own, loved both of them without question. Who knew what was in store for her and Steve? She was excited to find out.