by Rose, Amelia
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****
AMELIA ROSE
Learning to Love
Carson Hill Ranch: Book One
Dedication
To YOU, The reader.
Thank you for your support.
Thank you for your emails.
Thank you for your reviews.
Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
“Get the rope! Get it cinched on there tight now!” Bernard Carson called from his usual post, elbows propped on the split rail fence, overseeing the process of his two youngest sons helping with the calving. At almost seventy years old, the head of the Carson family no longer helped with the day to day process of the ranch but where his body might be too give out to cowpunch, his mind was still as sharp as ever.
“Got it, Dad,” his youngest son called back, using his father’s ancestral term of endearment. Jacob pulled the rope tight on the emerging calf’s hind legs, pulling gently to help the heifer along with the birth of another head of prized cattle.
Bernard twitched his hands against the wooden rail, wanting desperately to leap the fence and get in on the day-to-day work of ranching. It was one small part of what had drawn him to this open land in the first place, the opportunity to stake out a claim of land under an immense sky that stretched on forever, filling that land with thousands of head of cattle, and making the trek north with them year after year. It was what the cowboys of the Old West had done, and the connection he felt to them and their old ways was never more powerful than when he went about his work under the immense sky.
Sure, some things had changed since then. The telegraph was gone and his ranch hands now carried satellite phones on their hips where cowpokes once carried revolvers. The plows pulled by oxen had been replaced by industrial tractors with enclosed, air conditioned cabs. The wagon train that moved a herd across thousands of miles of open, untouched land had been replaced with vehicles driven in shifts.
But just as much as things changed, sometimes, things stayed the same, like the amazement of a calf being brought into the world, made even more amazing by watching his youngest sons go to work.
Seamus tied off the rope with a slip knot against the post in the middle of the fence, ensuring that it would hold throughout the birthing but would cut loose in a moment if the mother was in distress. It was surprising his father was letting the two of them take this on considering how much was invested in this tiny, slippery calf. If it was a female, it would mean up to two dozen other calves in its lifetime. If it was a bull, that number would be tenfold. Every second counted to make sure that whatever price it would fetch, it happened intact.
Finally, the tiny creature—well, tiny for a cow—popped out into the open, its eyes opening and closing in shock at the bright sunlight and stark change in temperature. Jacob reached for it with the burlap outstretched but Bernard intervened.
“Leave her to it, son, she knows what she’s doing. This is her first time, but it’s an instinct,” he called, amused at the way his two nearly grown sons, young men who could take on just about anything the frontier threw at them, were as giddy as new fathers themselves over the new member of the ranch and the miracle they had just taken part in. And he was right. The mother, unfazed by the difficult process she’d just endured, turned her massive head to her newborn calf and began to lick, warming it and comforting it. Jacob and Seamus joined their father at the fence rail and leapt the shoulder-height fence with a quick climb.
“I see it a hundred times a year and it amazes me every time,” Bernard said, gazing at the animals with admiration. “You did good, boys. It’s a proud thing to watch your own sons take on at the ranch.” The three cowboys, two fresh-faced and excited, one seasoned and respected, watched the animals in silence for a moment before turning toward the house, dusting their hands in the sawdust then brushing the grime from their leather coveralls as they went.
Bernard left Jacob and Seamus to clean up in the tack room adjacent to the barn and went into the main house. Walking into the foyer of the grand house never failed to leave him a little cold, feeling for the hundredth time the pang of loss of his wife, Margaret. She had been a true lady, even out here on the farm, and had always kept their home as a lady would. It had been only ten years since he’d lost her, dying shortly after the difficult birth of the last child to follow Seamus and Jacob, but it still hurt as though she had passed only yesterday.
These days, her home was nowhere near as grand. It was far from in shambles, but it lacked the womanly touch she’d always brought to it. The silver bowls she’d brought from the city when she came to this ranch as a new wife once held flower blooms she cut herself every morning from her garden, a task she wouldn’t even leave to the hired help. Instead, it was normal to find a random collection of items in her silver, things men would leave lying around a ranch: a bowie knife, a wad of twine, a spur that needed repair, or some rusted nails.
We need a woman around the place to make this a home again, Bernard thought wistfully, his mind immediately going to any of the six very eligible sons he had living on the ranch. Apart from the younger twins, there were a set of older twins as well, with two single brothers born in between. All of them were eligible to start looking, what with the older twins, Carey and Casey, being twenty-two for most of a year now. The trouble was the same problem they had with the cattle: eligible mates had to be found elsewhere.
Part of why Carson Hill Ranch was known for producing the best herd was because Bernard had learned from his own family’s farming traditions that dated all the way back to his ancestors from Belgium. But whether it was sheep in the foothills of the Alps or steer in the Texas plains, one thing about these animals was universal, and that was the need to bring in outside mates from time to time to ensure a strong stock.
Look at me, calling the future mothers of my grandchildren “stock,” the old man thought with some measure of disbelief. Maybe I’ve been at this too long.
“So, Dad, how’d the boys do?” Joseph asked, coming up behind his father and patting him on the shoulder. “That last calf come out okay?”
“Sure did, the boys made proud work of it. But where are your older brothers? Shouldn’t they have been around for this?” Bernard asked, his impatience showing on that last word. Unlike his sons, who’d grown up among the hired hands from the area and gone to school with some of the local kids, Bernard had spent his entire life on this ranch, even being schooled at home alongside the children of the ranch hands. By the time Bernard had inherited the ranch and began thinking of having a family, he had been some twenty years older than his somewhat younger wife. The two of them had been happy to stay isolated on the ranch, so much so, that some days, Bernard felt as out of place on
his own land because of the generation gap he felt all around him.
“They should still be working on that fence, if I’m not mistaken. We finally found the hole yesterday, and they were out before breakfast this morning to get to it before we have any more cows wander off.”
“And you didn’t help your brothers?” the old man asked, a teasing tone in his voice even as he prodded one of his two middle sons.
Joseph laughed. “I knew you were gonna say something about it! No, I’ve been out with one of the foremen all day, baiting for coyote.” His father’s face darkened. “I know, I know, you don’t have to say anything. But I’m sorry, Dad, it has to be done.”
Bernard had never understood the need to kill a weaker animal by luring it to its death. Taking out an aggressive scavenger that came onto your property was one thing, but actively bringing them to the land so they can die in pain, just to save a few cattle? That was more than he liked to think about.
“You know how I feel about it. I suppose this is why I have foremen, to make these decisions for me. But I don’t have to like it and you don’t have to brag about it,” Bernard admonished.
“Yes, Dad,” Joseph said, dropping his head a little. He hated to disappoint his father, but the coyotes had been coming to the ranch more and more frequently because of the lack of rain this past season, following the smaller prairie animals that came for the storehouses. But instead of catching the smaller animals, they ran the cattle to death instinctively. “But it would be different if they came and took out an old or sick cow once in a while because they needed the food. They don’t even eat it. They just chase one until she dies, choking on her own tongue from exhaustion and fear. If you feel this sorry for a lousy coyote, try feeling sorry for the herd. That has to be a horrible way to die, especially when it’s for nothing.”
“Of course, you’re right, my son,” Bernard sighed. “But when you get to be my age, you don’t like to think of anything dying. It’s too close to home!” Joseph shook his head.
“Now we’re not having that talk, Dad. You’re not going anywhere, and neither are the rest of us. When I see the others, I’ll tell ‘em you’re looking for ‘em.” He clapped his father on the back in farewell and headed back out to the stable to see to his horse.
CHAPTER TWO
“Ah! There you are, boys!” Bernard called from his office as Carey and Casey passed by. “Come in here, I want to speak with you!”
Casey dropped his shoulders in defeat, but Carey nudged him sharply with his elbow, reminding him to straighten up. It had been a long, hot day and the heat hadn’t let up in the slightest, even though the sun was nearly below the horizon. This is the time of day that even showering off in one of the dozen shower stalls in the washroom didn’t cool a man off any, no matter how cold the temperature of the natural spring-fed water. Casey straightened and put on a smile for his dad.
“What is it, Dad?” Carey asked, always the polite one, the one who remembered to think of a lonely old man, even after a day of labor.
“Come, come. Sit in here. I was thinking today about the ranch and we need to have a meeting.” Bernard stepped over to one of the wingback chairs near the fireplace, a fireplace that hadn’t needed to be warmed since last winter but that still served as an unofficial forum for conducting ranch business. Casey shot his brother a look, imploring him to get them out of this quickly. Instead, Carey took the seat directly across from his father and leaned close, ready to hear what the old man had to say. Casey sighed quietly in defeat but not quietly enough for Carey, who shot him a warning glance. Casey lowered himself onto a thread-worn flowered sofa and stretched out.
“So, my sons, I was thinking today…about your mother.” Casey sat up straighter and Carey bit his lower lip.
“What about her, Dad?”
“I was thinking that we need to have a feminine influence here.” Bernard interlaced his fingers in his lap and waited. Carey and Casey exchanged worried looks before Carey jumped up from his chair and reached for his father’s arm.
“That’s fantastic news, Dad! I didn’t even know you’d been looking for a wife! When will she get here? She won’t expect us to call her Mom, will she?” Carey asked, a little too eagerly. Bernard looked at him in wide eyed shock before breaking out in a robust laugh, its sound echoing from the high exposed rafters above them.
“No! No, son, not me. I’m too old for that kind of thing! Who would have a man my age?” He laughed some more before taking a deep breath and continuing. “It’s you who need to find a wife, you and your brother here.”
Casey got up from the sofa and peered at his father. “A wife? What? And just how do you propose we do that, sign up for an online dating service?” he demanded. Carey punched him in the shoulder, reminding him to be respectful. Casey cleared his throat and remembered himself. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly swimming in eligible, hot girls around here. Seriously, Dad, are we supposed to put an ad in a newspaper somewhere? That’s how you find stud cattle for the herd, not a human being.”
“Go ahead and laugh, smart guy, but it was a perfectly sufficient way for your ancestors to meet their wives, if I do say so myself. Girls came from the east by train back then, sight unseen, and showed up on the frontier to get married!” Bernard sat up taller and bristled somewhat angrily at the insinuation that going looking for a wife was not good enough for his sons. “And as a matter of fact, online dating is all the rage. I do watch the news, you know.” Carey and Casey looked first at their father and then at each other before racing to their father’s desk and peeking at his computer screen to make sure he hadn’t posted their info and made profiles for them somewhere. Their faces fell when they saw he’d been on the lesser known Internet dating site, CowboyLove.com, and had created profiles for each of them.
“Wanted…” Carey began reading.
“That’s wonderful,” Casey interrupted. “Right away, they’re going to think we’re trying to find a criminal, not a bride.”
“Hush, you,” Carey hissed before turning back to their father’s handiwork. “Wanted, brides for the Carson Hill Ranch. Good stock, willing to breed--” Casey made an exasperated sound low in his chest, his face flushing from embarrassment, “—able to endure the winters with the drive. Must be willing to accompany the herd…”
“I added that part in especially for you,” Bernard added, very pleased with his foresight. “I remember being so lonely on the drives after leaving your mother back here at the ranch. A good wife would go with her husband as he drives the cattle. She could cook for everyone, right? But your mother was always taking care of you boys, and she wouldn’t leave you at the ranch, no matter how many local women I offered to hire to care for you.” Casey shook his head slowly, still shocked and dumbfounded that his dad was doing this. It had to be a joke. There was no way this was real.
“Dad, this is so…” Carey began, his voice trailing off as he realized he couldn’t find the words to finish his own thought.
“Stupid?” Casey muttered under his breath, in a voice he was sure could not be heard by his elderly father.
“Thoughtful!” Carey said too loudly, sending a message to Casey that he hoped his brother got, once and for all. “But I’m not sure this is the best way to find a wife. Maybe next year, when we drive the herd to Wyoming, we can talk to some people, maybe ask around and see if any of the families we know can recommend someone to us. But you can’t just order a wife from the Internet the way we order plow blades from a catalog. And you certainly can’t expect her to come all the way out here just to…make babies.”
“But of course you can! Look! I see it right here!” Bernard got up and came over to the desk, clicking the mouse a few times to open some bookmarks he’d saved. “See? These women want to make a new start, a fresh start out in the wide open!”
“That’s because they’ve been to prison, Dad. That’s what they mean by a ‘fresh start.’ They want to move where no one knows about their past!” Car
ey argued.
“Carey,” Casey warned in a low voice, “do something about this. I am not going to be bred like one of Dad’s old cows!”
“My sons, sit back down and listen to me,” Bernard began. Casey fought to maintain his composure, both from wanting to wash off the dirt from a long, hot day and finally eat a good meal, and from the prospect that his father had been posting information about him on the Internet like a pimp and wanted to talk about it. The last thing on his mind was listening to his father’s grand plans for matchmaking. “When my ancestors first came to Texas, it took many, many weeks of travel. First, there was a whole ocean to cross, then there was almost an entire continent to cross, too. They arrived to find it was an empty place that filled men with empty feelings. It’s still a wonder to me to look out and see forever, to see so many stars, where all my relatives used to see was the little bit of sky that wasn’t hidden by the mountains around their village.”
“But after such a long time to make it to their new home, the first Carson to try to stake a homestead claim had only been here for a short time before he knew this land fulfilled him in a way that the mountains never could. Here, he was a man who owned the very ground we walk on today. The Carson family ranching empire started with a small herd of only three cows and over the years, each generation built that herd into everything you see today. Now, I have a ranch that goes on for sixty miles in all directions, and a home with room enough for fifty men. What I don’t have is someone to share it with me, to stand on the edge of my land and let me say to her, ‘This is what my people built, and I share it with you.’. You might think working the ranch is all there is and for right now, maybe you’re right. But there will come a day when you want to look back and know you built something more than just a ranch. You’ll want to know that you built a life.”
The boys stood quietly, absorbing their father’s heartfelt words. Losing their mother had been hard on them when they were young, but they barely remembered her. It was their father who had known her for much longer, who had finally found someone to share his life with after so long.
