The Rancher's Return

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “And working on this site is safe?” Carter asked as she clicked into the checking account.

  He reached across her and pulled a pen out of the holder in front of her.

  Droplets of moisture were captured in the waves of his thick hair. She had to clench her fists to keep herself from brushing them away.

  What was wrong with her? Why was she so jumpy around him lately?

  So aware of him?

  “Emma? Did you hear me?”

  She jerked her attention back to the computer screen and away from him. “Yeah. I did. Sorry. It’s perfectly safe.” She drew in a quick breath. “Plus it’s convenient. Much easier to do this way. We don’t have to get to town on time to meet the deadlines. It also saves a bunch of postage, which all helps. But, yeah, the bank account is well, healthy.”

  And you are babbling like an idiot.

  Carter shot her a puzzled look. “Why are you so nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous,” she said with a shaky laugh.

  “You talk more when you are.”

  Emma took refuge in sarcasm. “So now you’re the Emma expert?”

  Carter said nothing, and the only sounds in the ensuing silence were strains of music coming from the living room. Sounded as if the movie was ending.

  He held her gaze, and a faint smile curved up one corner of his mouth. “What’s wrong, Emma?”

  You’re what’s wrong, she wanted to say. You’re a distraction and a problem. Her son in the next room was a potent reminder of what was at stake for her if she made bad choices. He depended on her to take care of him.

  Getting distracted by an attractive, wounded man was not in Adam’s best interests. Especially not a man who had no intention of sticking around.

  Been there. Done that.

  “I’ve just got…things on my mind.” She caught herself. No whining, either.

  Carter leaned an elbow on the table but didn’t look away. “Like what?”

  She kept her eyes on the computer screen. “It’s not your worry.” She clicked on the Pay Bill button and flipped through the bills in front of her, looking for the next one to pay.

  “Is it a job you’re worried about? Your future?”

  Her hand paused. The concern in his voice was almost her undoing. How long had it been since anyone, including her father and even Karl, her once-fiancé, had even been concerned about her? Had cared enough to ask?

  “It’s a factor,” she said, pulling out the envelope she was looking for and ripping it open. “I’ll be fine. I can manage.”

  “You do that well,” Carter said quietly.

  “Open envelopes?” she asked, deliberately misunderstanding him.

  “Act like everything is fine. Like you’re in control.”

  Emma clutched the paper then lowered it to the desk trying to mask her awareness of him. “I’ve never believed I’m in control. I don’t think any of us are.”

  Just look at him. Act as if you’re not aware of his height. The breadth of his shoulders.

  The largeness of him that made a girl feel safe. Protected.

  That’s a pipe dream, and you know it. You can’t trust men.

  “No, I don’t suppose we are,” Carter said quietly, looking directly at her. Then he tilted his mouth up in a smile and, to her surprise and dismay, reached over and brushed his fingers over her cheek.

  She tried to stop the rush of warmth washing up her neck, heating her cheeks. He had done that before. When he wiped the mud off her face. What was he trying to do to her?

  “You had a piece of lint stuck to your face,” he said, holding up his fingers to show her.

  “Oh. I see.” She turned back to the computer, hoping he didn’t notice her shaking fingers. She typed in a number in the box to pay the bill, corrected it and tried again.

  “So then, once the bill is paid, I enter the amount in the checkbook,” she said quietly, hoping she sounded in control. In charge. “That way, if Wade takes the checkbook to town, he knows exactly how much is still in the account.”

  “That’s easier than the way I did it,” he said with a rueful grin. “Sylvia always said I did things backward.”

  Emma was surprised. This was the first time she’d heard him mention his wife’s name. “Did she ever do the books?”

  Carter laughed and shook his head. “She was a good woman, but she always said she could add up four numbers five times and come up with six different answers.”

  “I saw a picture of her at Nana Beck’s,” she said, capitalizing on his memory. “She was a beautiful woman.”

  Carter’s sigh held more melancholy than sadness. “She was. Inside and out. She was a real example to me of Christian love. I sometimes wonder what Harry would have been like if she’d been around.” A tiny break entered his voice as he spoke of his son.

  His sorrow touched Emma’s nurturing soul. She reached over and covered his hand with hers.

  “I’m so sorry, Carter,” she said quietly. “Sorry for all you’ve lost.”

  He held her gaze and gave her a wistful smile as his hand squeezed hers in return. “I’m sorry too.”

  Their gazes held again. But she felt a shift in the atmosphere. A change from sadness to something deeper.

  Attraction. Understanding. A sense of coming home.

  Look away. Look away. This is trouble.

  But Emma couldn’t.

  “Mom, the movie is done,” Adam announced, hopping into the kitchen and bringing energy, enthusiasm and reality with him.

  Emma yanked her hands away from Carter’s and swallowed down the anticipation brewing in her chest.

  “Can I have a cookie?” Adam asked.

  Emma nodded absently, furiously clicking on another button, suddenly wishing Carter would let her finish up alone.

  Adam wandered to her side and wiggled his way between Emma and Carter, his hands full of cookies. “Can I sit on your lap, Mom?” he asked.

  “In a minute, buddy.” She frowned at the cookies in his hand. “Why did you take four?”

  He laid two on the desk. “One for you and one for Mr. Carter.”

  “Two for you, I noticed,” Carter said with a surprising grin.

  “Yup. ’Cause I’m the cookie getter.” Adam took a bite of his cookie and released a dramatic sigh. “How come I can’t sit on your lap?”

  “Because I can’t work on the computer and hold you at the same time.”

  “I can’t see.” Adam turned to Carter. “Can I sit on your lap? Sometimes, when Mommy is done on the computer she lets me play a game. Or look at the horse pictures.”

  Emma’s gaze flew to Carter, even as she nudged her son, hoping to catch his attention. She wished she had let Adam sit on her knees, because she knew Carter would turn him down.

  But Carter was looking at Adam, his mouth curved in a rueful smile.

  Then, to her surprise and amazement, he lifted Adam up on his lap.

  As Adam settled against Carter, Emma felt a whirlwind of emotions. Astonishment that Carter would willingly take Adam and hold him.

  And, threaded through that, a sense of confusion she couldn’t pin down. She didn’t want Adam to connect with Carter this way. She didn’t want her son to be tied in with the man who was, even now, making Emma’s hands clumsy and making her heart lift. The scene was too much like a family setting. Mother, father, son. All cozy and comfortable.

  Guarding her heart was how she had to take care of Adam. Carter was outrunning his past by leaving when the ranch sold. This would never work. Adam could not experience another disruption in his young life.

  “When you’re finished can we look at the pictures?” Adam was saying.

  “Yes. And then you can sit on my lap,” she said with a false brightness as she slit open another envelope. She flew through the rest of the bills, flipping and clicking and hoping she input the correct amounts. She wanted to be done so she could split up this too-cozy tableau.

  She closed the bank site then opened up the photo progr
am. Wade had made a file of horse pictures, and Adam loved looking at them.

  But her hands were clumsy and she hit the wrong file. As she reached for Adam, a movie opened up. A little boy waved at the camera from on top of a horse. Harry.

  Wade led the horse and in the background Emma heard Carter’s voice, probably from behind the camera. “Make sure you hold on, Harry. Don’t show off too much.”

  The movie showed Wade bringing Harry closer to the camera, and Emma couldn’t look away even as she clicked and clicked, trying to shut the program down.

  Harry was a younger version of Carter. Same thick, wavy hair. Same blue eyes. Same crooked smile.

  She heard a sharp intake of breath from Carter and then…finally…thankfully, the movie disappeared. An intense silence followed. Emma was sure everyone heard the heavy pounding of her heart.

  Then Adam turned to Carter. “I’m sad that your little boy can’t be here.” The simple words slashed the quiet.

  Emma was afraid to look at Carter, to see his reaction. But her gaze slipped to his face anyway, and to her surprise, moisture glimmered in his eyes.

  “I’m sad too,” was all Carter said, his voice quiet.

  “Maybe if you pray, God will help you feel better,” Adam replied with the simple confidence of his innocent faith.

  Carter’s smile was warm and Emma’s heart tumbled in her chest as Carter brushed his hand over Adam’s hair. “Maybe,” he said. Then he gently set Adam aside, mumbled a hurried “Excuse me,” and left.

  When the door clicked behind him, Emma felt tears prick her eyelids. Seeing Carter’s son, alive and smiling, made his loss tangible. Painful.

  What must Carter be going through right now?

  Ten minutes later she got the answer as she heard the rumble of Carter’s motorbike starting up then, in spite of the rain, leaving.

  His life is too messy, she reminded herself, stifling the momentary attraction she had just experienced. Adam doesn’t need more complications and disappointments. You’re the only one who can take care of him.

  Yet, even as she talked herself through her usual litany, a yearning for the momentary connection she and Carter shared thrummed through her.

  What was she supposed to do about that?

  Chapter Nine

  “Can we take some cookies along?” Adam leaned on the counter watching Emma making sandwiches.

  It was early morning, and she and Adam were putting together the picnic in Miranda and Wade’s house— Carter’s old house, she thought.

  “Sorry, buddy, they’re all gone,” she said absently, half her attention on her son, the other on how many sandwiches she should make. “But you can take some chips.”

  Yesterday, after Carter left, the rain quit and the sun came out, promising a better day. Today they had to go up to move the cows. She could only assume Carter was coming along. Especially after his speech about him still being the owner of the ranch.

  Would the situation be awkward?

  “But I really like cookies,” Adam grumped. “So can I take pop instead?”

  “Why don’t we take our water bottles?” she suggested. “That way if you empty it, you can fill the bottle up in the stream.” Thankfully Adam didn’t counter that offer.

  To make up for the lack of cookies, Emma put in an extra bag of chips and added two more chocolate bars.

  A quick glance at the clock showed her she had time to spare.

  “Let’s go and see Nana Beck,” she said, lifting Adam off the chair. “Make sure she’s doing okay.”

  “Why is Nana moving off the ranch?” Adam asked as Emma pushed the chair back under the table.

  “She’s not been feeling well and she wants to live closer to the hospital, which means moving to town.”

  “I don’t think she should move.” Adam shoved his hands in his pockets and shot Emma a petulant look. “I don’t think we should move.”

  Emma’s heart faltered at the sadness in her son’s voice. She knelt down and brushed his hair back from his face, then wiped a remnant of breakfast from the corner of his mouth. “Things change, son. And Mr. Carter is selling the ranch.”

  “Can’t we work for the other man? The man buying the ranch?”

  Emma thought of what Carter had told her about the acreage then, with a light sigh, shook her head. “Sorry, Adam. I want to find a place where we can live for good. A place we can own.”

  Adam frowned. “We have a place to live. The cabin.”

  “It’s not the same.” He was only five. He didn’t understand the need to put down roots. The need to have a place no one could take away. He trusted her to take care of that for him.

  She gave him a quick kiss to forestall more questions then pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s go see Nana Beck.” Then find Carter.

  They stepped out into warm, inviting sunshine, so welcome after two days of drizzle and rain. Adam ran ahead of her, singing at the top of his lungs some song he had learned at Sunday school.

  He flapped his arms, turning in circles, laughing at his own antics. The sight of him running so free gave her heart a tug. Come September he’d be going to kindergarten. After that, full-time school.

  She wanted to stop time and bottle it. To hold these moments close. He was her precious little boy, and she wanted to keep him to herself as long as she could.

  “Someone is in a good mood.”

  Emma jumped at the sound of Carter’s voice behind her. He had caught up to her, his hands in the pockets of an old oilskin jacket, chaps covering his legs.

  “We still on for moving the cows?” he asked, shooting her a sidelong glance.

  Emma tried to gauge his mood. She hadn’t seen him since he left yesterday. When he had finally returned, it was 7:00 p.m. and he had gone directly to Nana Beck’s house.

  Now, he acted as if yesterday hadn’t happened.

  “I was taking Adam to see if Nana Beck needed anything,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual. “Then I was going to get you.”

  He held up a hand, as if to stop her. “Don’t worry. I won’t run the old ‘I’m the owner of this ranch’ schtick like I did the last time.”

  She nodded, slipping her hands in her pockets, unsure of what she should say. Then she figured, go with ordinary. Act as if nothing happened.

  “So where were you just now?” she asked, glancing at the water beaded up on his leather chaps.

  “I took Elijah out for a ride. Figured he needed a bit of extra work. We went down the trail leading to the river.”

  “You thinking of taking him along this morning?”

  “When we go move the cows?” Carter shook his head, his eyes still on Adam. “For that I’ll need a more seasoned horse. Which one works better with your horses?”

  She angled him a questioning look, wondering if he was just trying to make her feel important after her little spiel of the other day.

  “Banjo. Definitely,” she said, playing along for now. “Plus, he’s more docile, which is better with the cows.”

  “In other words, a plug.”

  Emma laughed as she walked up the steps to Nana Beck’s house. “I wasn’t going to say that, but—”

  “He won’t win the Triple Crown.” Carter finished her sentence.

  Their eyes met and humor flashed between them. “He’s a good horse. Solid and dependable. Which is more important in my books than flash and dash.”

  Carter’s mouth curved into a crooked smile. “That’s good to know.”

  Then as she reached for the door, he caught her by the shoulder and turned her back to face him. Emma fought the urge to pull back, sensing he wanted to tell her something.

  “I want to apologize for taking off yesterday and leaving you with the books. It was just…” His slate-blue eyes held hers, and in their depths she saw his pain. At the same time, she caught something else. Something she couldn’t define.

  “I understand,” she said quietly, carefully stepping back from him. “I’m so sorry about the m
ovie. I can’t imagine how hard it was to see Harry that way.”

  He slowly drew in a breath, looking away from her. “I didn’t expect…didn’t think I’d see him, hear him…” His voice broke and Emma’s heart broke too.

  “He looked like you,” she said quietly.

  Carter nodded then released a short laugh, but it didn’t have the same bitter tone it would have the first time she met him. “My cousin Shannon always said Harry looked more like me than Garret did. Though Sylvia’s mom and dad said he looked like Sylvia’s father.”

  “I guess a person sees who they want to see.”

  “So who do people say Adam looks like?”

  His question created a twinge of envy. “He doesn’t look much like me or my father, but neither does he look like his father. Of course, I have no clue if he looks anything like Adam’s grandfather. I never met him.”

  Carter frowned, and in that moment she felt a deep sense of shame at her messy past.

  She lifted her shoulder in what she hoped was a casual shrug. “When Adam’s father found out I was pregnant, he took off. I haven’t gotten so much as a phone call or text message from him or his family since then.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, lightly touching her shoulder. She wanted to feel comforted, but instead it brought out the stark contrast between her and Sylvia. Sylvia who had family and community.

  Emma, who had a sordid and shameful past as compared with Carter’s history and roots.

  She pushed the memory and comparisons aside. “So who do you think Harry looked like?” she asked, moving back to their previous topic.

  “I always thought he looked more like Naomi, my other cousin,” Carter said, a pensive smile curving his lips.

  “Naomi of the middle cabin?”

  “That Naomi.” Carter pulled his hat off his head then gave her a quick smile.

  Emma shook her head, deliberately keeping her tone light. “I haven’t met Naomi, but if Harry looked liked her, then she is more your twin than Garret is.”

  Carter’s laugh was genuine. “Garret and I don’t look that much alike for twins.”

  “I noticed that.”

  “Where?”

  “In the pictures Nana has up on the wall.” Nana Beck had an entire gallery devoted to her family, though pictures of the grandchildren far outnumbered the pictures of her daughters, Denise and Noelle.