The Rancher's Return

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Carter said nothing to that, and Emma kept her gaze on her hands, her heart thrumming in her chest with a mixture of anticipation and concern. “Right now your plans are to sell the ranch and leave.”

  “What if I tell you that things might change? What if I tell you that I might—”

  “Mom? Where are you?”

  Adam’s plaintive voice cut into what he was going to say, the reality of his presence underlining what she had told Carter.

  Emma jumped to her feet and ran to Adam’s side. He was sitting up, stretching his arms, and when he saw her he grinned. “Did you eat all the cookies?”

  “No, honey. There are lots left.” Emma went to grab the bag, but when she did, she was disappointed to see her hands trembling. She balled her hands into fists and tried again. “Here you go, buddy,” she said, giving him a cookie. She set the bag aside and pulled him onto her lap, holding him close as she always did after his nap.

  Focus. Adam is the nucleus of your life. He depends completely on every decision you make. Don’t get distracted.

  Even as she formulated that thought, she shot a quick glance toward Carter who was watching her and Adam. His “what-ifs” rang through her mind, bringing more confusion.

  And she knew that Carter was becoming more than a distraction. He was becoming intertwined in her and Adam’s lives.

  Carter and his horse topped the rise, and then below him lay the ranch buildings.

  Behind him he heard the plop of Emma’s and Adam’s horses’ hooves on the trail still wet from the rains of the past few days, the jingle of their bridles, the squeak of the saddles as they shifted with their horses’ movements.

  Even more than that, it was as if he felt them behind him. Felt their very presence.

  He tugged on the brim of his hat and blew out a breath. What had he done back there? What had he started?

  He resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder, to catch Emma’s eye. Ever since the kiss, she had avoided looking at him. As if she regretted their moment of intimacy.

  He guided Banjo down the trail, easing up on the reins as he slipped then caught his footing.

  All the way back from the picnic, Emma said nothing. Adam, seemingly oblivious to the tension between Emma and Carter had chatted about the weather, the horses. How his mom said he could ride in the tractor with Wade when he cut the hay and wondering how many bales they might get.

  Each comment about the ranch hit like a tiny lash. Carter doubted that Emma and Adam would be around when haying time came. He understood from Pete that the buyer was anxious, well financed and ready to take over the ranch very soon.

  The thought he had tentatively expressed to Emma blew back into his mind. What if he didn’t sell the place? What if he decided he wanted to come back here? Start ranching again?

  With Emma and Adam?

  Carter shot a glance back at Emma, and in that moment she looked over at him. Then a flush colored her cheeks and she looked away. What was she thinking?

  When they got back to the ranch, he knew they needed to talk more. She needed to know that his kiss wasn’t simply a casual thing. And he wanted—no, needed—to know her reaction. He didn’t dare build a potential future on such a flimsy foundation as a kiss.

  She’s pretty. You kissed. What does it matter?

  The trouble was, it did.

  Emma was more than an attractive woman. She was a mother with a mother’s responsibilities. He had to take Adam’s needs into consideration as, he was sure, Emma did. Could he take on this little boy, as well? He couldn’t make that decision lightly.

  He glanced over at Adam, who grinned back at him, and Carter felt that warmth again. That sense of connection. Then his gaze drifted to Emma, who was watching him with puzzlement in her expression.

  He squared his shoulders then turned, looking at the ranch buildings as they came closer. He and his grandfather had put up the hay shed, the shop and the small garage by the house. His great-grandfather had built the barn and the corrals and the house he had lived in.

  With every step of Banjo’s hooves toward the ranch, history pulled at him. Memories slipped into his mind. Naomi and Shannon screaming as Garret and Carter dumped them into the river. Hailey trying to snowboard off the roof of the hay shed and breaking her leg.

  Papa Beck taking them on a wagon ride every year after haying was done. The wagon ride was one of the highlights of the year for the cousins. That, and Christmas when everyone came together at the ranch, singing carols with Papa and Nana Beck, unwrapping presents, eating way too many cinnamon buns.

  The memories rolled over one another, braided snatches of voices, songs. Good memories folding over the sad ones.

  Did he have to sell this place? Did he have to leave?

  Peace is not the absence of trouble, peace is the presence of God.

  He turned Banjo’s head to make the last turn down the hill to the ranch as he thought again what the pastor had said on Sunday.

  Dear God, he prayed, struggling to find the right words to address someone he hadn’t talked to in a long while. I don’t know what to think. Show me what to do.

  Behind that prayer came a measure of peace. A sense of wait-and-see. He had time yet. He didn’t have to make a decision today. Or tomorrow.

  He and Emma could explore where things were going. He wanted to spend more time with Adam, too. To find a place for the boy in his life. If, indeed, that was the direction he and Emma would go.

  “Who is visiting Nana Beck?”

  Adam’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. Adam was pointing at Nana’s house, and Emma’s attention was on Adam.

  Tonight, he thought, tonight he wanted to talk to her.

  He turned back to the house, and from here he saw the two figures Adam had referred to, sitting on the deck of his grandmother’s house. Probably someone from church.

  He reined his horse right, toward the corrals, and rode past the pasture. Banjo whinnied and the other horses called back then ran to join them.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you missed these guys horribly,” Carter said as he dismounted by the hitching rail.

  To his surprise, he wasn’t near as stiff as before. Getting used to riding again, he thought with a satisfied smile while looping the reins over Banjo’s head.

  “Those people are coming over here,” Adam was saying as Emma helped him off the saddle.

  The man walking toward them was tall, thin, with close-cropped graying hair and a net of wrinkles around his deep-blue eyes. His suit coat hung loose on his narrow shoulders, and his blue jeans were crisp and new over his cowboy boots.

  The woman was short, plump, with curly hair framing her face. She wore a long skirt, a T-shirt and flip-flops.

  As Sylvia always did.

  “Do you know who they are?” Emma asked, glancing sidelong at Carter.

  Carter’s heart slowed, then began racing.

  “Yeah. Those are Sylvia’s parents. Harry’s grandparents.” His voice choked on the last sentence.

  What were they doing here? How come they didn’t tell him they were coming? What was he supposed to do with them?

  “I’ll take care of Banjo,” Emma said quietly, coming to stand beside him.

  He glanced down at her, then back at Sylvia’s parents. The last time he saw them was across Harry’s grave. After the agonizing reception in the church, he had raced home, thrown his things together, given Wade a few muttered instructions with promises for more to come later, hopped on his motorbike and left. He hadn’t seen them since.

  Carter dragged his attention back to Emma, his emotions a whirlwind of confusion, guilt and yet…his heart softened a moment as his eyes met hers.

  Too easily he recalled what it was like to hold her in his arms. That feeling of everything being right in his world, if only for a moment.

  “That’s…that’s okay. I’ll deal with it.”

  “I’m sure you’ll want to talk to them.” Emma reached over and took Banjo’s reins. “I
know they want to talk to you. Very badly.”

  Carter held on to the reins, catching her attention. “The only person I want to talk to right now is you.”

  She blinked, but then her eyes lowered. “I don’t know… I’m not sure.”

  “Neither am I,” he said, an urgency entering his voice as he heard Kim Groot calling his name. “But what happened up there was more than just a kiss. You and I both know that.”

  She shot him a quick look, and in her eyes he caught a hint of uncertainty, which gave him hope. “Maybe, but right now you have other things to deal with.”

  “Later, then. We’ll talk later.”

  She gave him a shy smile, a quick nod, and then before he could say anything more, the past caught up to the present.

  “Carter.” Kim Groot’s voice fluttered across the moment and then Kim enveloped him in an awkward hug, her tears wetting his shirt.

  He lifted his free hand and patted her on the shoulder, unsure of what was expected of him. Over Kim’s head he saw Sylvia’s father, Frank, reach up and swipe a hand over his eyes.

  Emma eased away from him, leading Banjo, Dusty and Diamond to the pasture.

  “Oh, son, it has been too long,” Kim was saying as she stepped back and wiped away the moisture running down her cheeks. She looked up at him, her green eyes, so much like Sylvia’s, red and glistening with tears.

  Frank moved closer, laying his hand on Carter’s shoulder. “Sorry for dropping in on you like this, but we haven’t talked to you. Haven’t seen you since—” His voice broke again, and Carter felt slowly drawn back to a storm of emotions he had tried to avoid for the past two years.

  “Since the funeral,” he said quietly, surprised at how calm and even his voice sounded.

  Frank nodded, drawing in a shaky breath. He pulled a worn hanky out of his pocket and handed it to Kim. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and gave Carter a wavery smile.

  “Like Frank said, I’m sorry for doing this to you, but I did call. Some girl answered.”

  “Emma,” Carter said. “That’s Emma who was here a moment ago.” Emma who was now putting the horses away in the corral. Emma whom he had just kissed. Emma who was confusing him more than he had ever been confused before.

  “Who is the little boy?”

  As Carter dragged his attention away from Emma, he caught a peculiar inflection in Kim’s voice and a frown on her face. Carter recognized the emotion. He had felt the same way when he first saw Adam on the ranch.

  As if the child was an interloper.

  “That’s Adam. Her son.”

  “So she’s married?”

  “No.”

  Kim nodded slowly, as if pondering this situation. Carter wasn’t sure what to make of her frown or the way her lips were pressed together. He wanted to defend Emma. To explain what she was really like.

  “She seems to know how to handle horses,” Frank said.

  “She’s good with them. And she loves the ranch.”

  “Sylvia loved the ranch so much,” Kim said, a defensive note in her voice. “And I know she loved riding.”

  Frank frowned. “What do you mean? Sylvia was uncomfortable around the horses.”

  “No, she wasn’t, was she, Carter?”

  Carter’s mind raced, trying to find a diplomatic way to answer his mother-in-law. Sylvia was an amazing woman and a wonderful wife, but she went riding with him only once or twice.

  “How are you doing, Carter?” Frank asked, thankfully rescuing him from answering.

  “I’m doing okay,” he said quietly, shoving his gloves in his back pocket.

  “We missed you, son,” Frank said, his voice gentle. “It’s been a long hard road for us, and we wanted to talk to you once in a while. Just to see how you were doing.”

  “But we couldn’t because you were gone,” Kim added, curving her arm through her husband’s. “You’re the only connection that remains to Harry and Sylvia. You’re all we have left of our grandson and beautiful daughter.” She sniffed and drew in a long breath. “She was so precious to us. She’s been gone five years, but at times I still expect to see her coming through the door of our house singing those hymns she loved. She was such an example to me, so strong in her faith. I still don’t understand why God took her away from us.”

  Carter didn’t either, but he found he didn’t want to talk about Sylvia. Not out here. Not in front of Emma.

  “And then to lose Harry.” Kim reached over and laid her hand on his arm. “If we feel the loss so keenly, you must feel it even more.”

  Each word Kim spoke laid another brick of guilt on his shoulders. The guilt of a man who couldn’t keep his wife from dying. Who couldn’t keep his son safe.

  He thought about the kiss he and Emma shared. The feeling that overwhelmed him when he held her in his arms. He hadn’t felt that way in so long.

  But Kim’s words haunted him.

  How could he consider taking care of Emma or Adam?

  Chapter Eleven

  So what was she supposed to do? Sit and wait for Carter to come to her? Go to him?

  Emma fidgeted in the easy chair tucked in one corner of her and Adam’s cabin, her book forgotten on her lap. Adam snored lightly in his bed, the fresh air and excitement catching up to him.

  Carter’s in-laws had left over an hour ago. But still Carter didn’t come. He had said he needed to talk to her. So where was he? Had seeing Sylvia’s parents reminded him of his past too much, putting any future plans in jeopardy?

  She rubbed her forehead, pressing away a headache that threatened. Too many thoughts roiling through her head. Too much to figure out. At one time she had a plan. A purpose. A goal.

  Now she felt as if her life had been tossed upside down. As if God was playing some joke on her.

  And Carter was becoming…what? Important to her? Special?

  Her fingers drifted to her lips as if trying to find the kiss she had given him.

  Oh, Emma, you are such a silly fool. Didn’t you learn your lesson with Karl? With Adam’s father?

  But in the deepest places of her heart she sensed Carter was different. The fact that he grieved for his son, grieved for his wife, though hard to watch, showed her that relationships were important to him. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he didn’t mean it. Wouldn’t have treated that lightly.

  He’s a guy. You know you can’t depend on them. Where is he now? He said he wanted to talk to you, but where is he?

  Emma tossed her book aside and reached for her Bible, hoping to find solace there. But as she turned the pages, the words blurred into each other.

  She wanted to draw nourishment from scripture, but her mind kept slipping to what she and Carter had shared this afternoon.

  Then a knock on the door sent her heart into overdrive.

  She waited a moment, sent up a prayer for strength and opened the door of the cabin. Carter stood there on her deck, the light behind him casting shadows on his face. She couldn’t read his expression.

  She glanced back at Adam then stepped outside and closed the door, shutting off the light coming from the cabin. Carter became a darkened outline against the remnants of daylight.

  “What do you want?” she asked, struggling and failing to sound in control.

  Carter blew out a sigh and shoved one hand through his hair. “I want to talk to you.”

  Emma’s heart fluttered at his admission, but the hoarse sound of his voice sent a chill of foreboding, chasing the momentary excitement away.

  “Can we sit down?” he asked, walking over to a wooden bench.

  Emma hesitated, then perched on the side of the bench closest to the window so she could watch Adam and be reminded of her first responsibility.

  Carter eased himself down beside her.

  He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped between his legs,

  “So, how were Kim and Frank Groot?” she asked, determined to be in charge of the conversation.

  Carter pinched the bridg
e of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, kneading it slowly. “When you told me I should talk to them, I had hoped it would be on my time.” He released a sigh into the gathering dark. “It was hard seeing them.” Carter’s voice faltered, and Emma felt a surge of pity for him as quiet fell between them again. This time Emma said nothing and waited for him to bridge the gap his silence had created.

  “Did anyone tell you how Harry died?” Carter asked.

  Emma shook her head. Wade had only said that Harry had died on the ranch. Nana Beck didn’t tell her much more than that, and Emma hadn’t pried.

  “Remember how you commented on the fact that I didn’t have a horse waterer on the place?”

  She simply nodded.

  “I had one once. A big plastic tub. The kind you attach a hose to and a switch shuts the hose off when the water level gets high enough.”

  “My dad had a couple of them on the yard.” She wasn’t crazy about them, but they were cheaper than putting in an underground heated waterer.

  Carter dragged his hand over his face then exhaled slowly. “Wade and I had to go up to the high pasture and gather up some stray cows. Nana Beck usually babysat Harry, but she had the flu so I got someone to come in. She was an older woman who used to live down the road. She fell asleep on the couch. My son…Harry wasn’t even in bed yet. He walked out of the house and went over to the corral to look at the horses. Probably feed them some carrots.” He gave a short laugh. “He used to do that all the time. I noticed Adam does too.”

  Silence followed his comment, and Emma waited.

  He drew in a shaky breath. “No one knows what happened. Whether he hit his head, or fell or one of the horses scared him. Wade came on the yard first and found him facedown in the waterer.” He stopped there, staring straight ahead.

  The heaviness of his words fell between them, creating a chasm she didn’t know how to bridge with words. Finally, she realized nothing she said would make a difference. So she took his cold hands and wrapped hers around them.