Cattleman's Courtship

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “I’m fine. Really,” she protested. “No headache, no dizziness.”

  “But that bruise—”

  Cara put her hand on his arm to stop him. “I’ll get my aunt to bring me to the hospital if necessary. You should go get Lorne and Trista sorted out.”

  He saw the necessity of that. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

  “I will.” She didn’t look at him as she walked to her car and got in. Was she regretting their kiss?

  Should he?

  “You going to unsaddle Bud?” his father said.

  Nicholas pulled his attention away from Cara. “Why don’t you do that?” he said. “I’ve got to take Two Bits back to find Lorne and Trista.”

  And before his father could ask him anything more about Cara, Nicholas was on his horse and gone. He had too much to think about. Too much to process.

  And he wasn’t about to do that in front of his father.

  Fifteen minutes later he found Lorne and Trista heading back down the trail.

  “Where’s Cara?” Trista asked, as soon as she saw him.

  “She had a spill and went home.”

  “You let her go on her own? You didn’t bring her? What if she has a concussion?” Trista’s questions hammered at him as they rode back to the ranch.

  “She said she felt fine. She insisted on going on her own. What else could I do?” Nicholas said, his guilt making him testy. “You know how stubborn Cara can be.”

  “I suppose,” Trista said with a sigh. “Did she talk to you about picking up plants from the nursery Tuesday?”

  Nicholas glanced back at her. “No. What plants?”

  “For the wedding. The nursery is having a closing-out sale, but she didn’t think she would have enough room in her car to get them,” Trista said. “I told her to ask you for help.”

  They’d had other things on their minds obviously.

  “I don’t know. I’ve got hay to bale and I have to move my cows to another pasture. The tractor needs an oil change and I’ve got to work on the corrals.”

  “I’ll do the oil change tomorrow night,” Lorne said. “And help you with the corrals. Your hay won’t be ready to bale until Wednesday, which means you’ll have time to help Cara with the plants.”

  “Why are you so eager to help?” He’d been getting a weird vibe from Lorne and Trista and harbored a faint suspicion they were playing matchmaker.

  “Hello? Wedding? Here?” Lorne spread his hands out in an innocent gesture. “The more I can help you with, the more you can do.”

  So why didn’t he go and get the plants? But he knew if he asked, he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

  “Okay, find out when she’s going and I’ll meet her there,” he said.

  Trista’s grin gave him pause but he didn’t want to speculate on what caused it. He had a faint suspicion that he knew what Trista was up to.

  And the trouble was, he didn’t mind.

  “So as a friend, I need to ask. You absolutely certain Trista’s the one for you?” Nicholas picked up the two-by-six, glancing across the pile of wood to his friend. He had been mulling over the questions he and Cara had discussed yesterday and knew he had to talk to his friend.

  Lorne moved the piece of straw he’d been chewing on to the other side of his mouth and picked up the other end of the board. “Yeah. I am.”

  “And you two are happy together?” Nicholas set the board in place and braced it with his hip as he pulled his hammer out of the loop on his pouch.

  “A lot happier than I was with Mandy and about as happy as you were with Cara.”

  Nicholas chose to ignore that last comment. Ever since the aborted ride yesterday, Lorne had been dropping hints about Cara as heavy as the board they were maneuvering into place.

  “Just make sure you protect yourself,” Nicholas muttered, pulling a handful of nails out of the pocket of his carpenter pouch. “You’re starting a new business. If this marriage doesn’t work—”

  “I’m not going to lie, I have my concerns, as well, but Trista and I really love each other and we want to get married. And sometimes you just have to dive in. Take a chance. Love is a risk, but I think it’s a risk worth taking.”

  “I took a chance with Cara. Getting engaged after seven months. Look where that got me.” He easily pounded the nails in and Lorne followed suit.

  “But you never set a wedding date, man.”

  Nicholas shrugged Lorne’s comment aside. “That was only part of the problem.”

  Trouble was even though he had loved Cara, he had his own embers of misgivings. Misgivings fanned into flame by his father’s concerns.

  It wasn’t part of the plan, his father had advised. Things needed to get done on the ranch first.

  “Taking a chance can have serious repercussions,” Nicholas said, walking back to get another board. “You’re starting a business and you’re not set up yet. Don’t you think you should wait?”

  “No. What Trista and I did was wrong and I want this baby born into a marriage.”

  “But you don’t seem committed. You’re letting Trista and Cara do most of the work.”

  “Hey, I’m committed to the marriage—the wedding is just what I have to do to get there. It’s just a tradition.”

  “But it’s a good one,” Nicholas said as they carried the board back to the corrals.

  “Says the guy who knows all about it,” Lorne said as he grinned.

  Nicholas ignored him. “If I was getting married I’d want things done proper and in order. Things need to be ready. In place.”

  “And that’s why in a few days I’m getting married and you’re still single.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You wanted everything just so before you and Cara got married. Bills paid, bank account solid, debt paid down. Corrals fixed, barn painted, all that jazz. But things get in the way and things happen and it can all be gone in a flash.” Lorne snapped his fingers to underline his statement. “So maybe I’m taking a chance, but if you never take a chance, you never get to experience the thrill of jumping off into the void without a net.” Lorne’s voice held a touch of amusement.

  “You, my friend, have been reading too many motivational books. Next thing I know you’re going to tell me I need to release myself from the bonds of earth and fly free.”

  Lorne grew quiet and for a moment Nicholas thought he might have hit a nerve.

  Nicholas glanced up in time to see his friend looking at him with a steady gaze, his hammer hanging at his side.

  “What?” Nicholas asked.

  “You go to church, dude. You know that God wants us to do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with Him—at least that’s how I remember it. I’m taking care of my responsibilities so I’m doin’ that. I know you don’t wanna talk about Cara, but you made a megamistake with her. And I figure you got a second chance, now that she’s back.”

  “She’s got her own plans, Lorne. And they don’t include me.”

  Lorne gave no reply and for a while the only noise that broke the quiet was the ringing of hammers and the occasional bellow from the herd of heifers close to the barn.

  But as they worked Lorne’s words as well as his confidence in what he was doing spun around Nicholas’s mind.

  “Oh, brother. What’s this doing on here?” Lorne brushed some sparrow droppings off the boards. “Those birds are getting to be a pest. You really need to do something about ’em.”

  “And a million other things,” Nicholas said. “I can’t keep up.”

  “Have you ever thought of quitting your job?”

  “You sound like Cara used to,” Nicholas muttered.

  “So what happened with you and Cara?” Lorne asked.

  Nicholas missed the nail he was hammering and bent it over. “Nothing. We just had a spill. She fell and then Bud took off. So I thought I should bring her back. So, nothing happened.”

  Lorne snickered and Nicholas straightened the nail. “I was talking about h
ow you two broke up, dude.”

  “I…I told you,” he said, wishing he didn’t sound so flustered. “We had a fight about my job.”

  “So I’m guessing something else happened between you and Cara on Sunday,” Lorne asked, his voice full of innuendo.

  Nicholas pounded the nail home in three swipes. He had never been a kiss-and-tell kind of guy and wasn’t spilling his guts to a friend in wedding mode. “She had a spill. Nothing else happened.”

  “Else?”

  He clamped his lips together. Best not to say anything more.

  But as he fitted another nail in the board, his mind slipped back to that fateful kiss. He wished he could rewind that moment. He should never, never have done that. It was a mistake and he had to make sure he got through this wedding with his heart whole.

  Chapter Nine

  “And I’ll take two dozen of these gerberas,” Cara said to the greenhouse attendant, leaning over the wooden table to point out the one she wanted.

  The swish of the sprinklers, the abundant greenery and the humid warmth of the greenhouse created a sense of wonder and expectation in Cara.

  She wished she had her own place, a garden and flower beds. She let her mind wander to Nicholas’s house, imagining plants nestled against the wooden step leading up to the house and flowers hanging from the porch. The place looked immaculate, but it needed a woman’s touch. Some flowers, some shrubs. A kitchen garden—

  “And you wanted a dozen of the prepotted arrangements?” the clerk asked, his question breaking into her runaway and foolish thoughts.

  She tapped her finger on her chin, considering. “Actually, make that fifteen.”

  She did some mental calculations, figuring what plants she would need where, and then her phone rang. She glanced at the call display. Trista.

  “Hey, Cara, are you at the nursery already?” she demanded.

  “I got off work early.”

  “Okay. Okay, that should work. Let me think.”

  Cara frowned as she pinched a dead flower off one of the plants. “What should work?”

  “I got Nicholas to meet you at the nursery. I thought we should bring the plants to the ranch right away. That way they don’t have to get moved twice.”

  Cara swallowed against the anticipation that filled her at the sound of Nicholas’s name. She didn’t want to see him so soon. Not after Sunday.

  Of its own accord her hand drifted up to her mouth. It was as if his kiss still lingered on her lips. His touch still warmed her.

  “That won’t work,” she protested. “Who is going to water them?”

  “Nicholas said he didn’t mind.”

  A picture of Nicholas wielding a watering can flashed into Cara’s mind. “He doesn’t have time. Any day now he’s baling his hay.”

  “And you know that…how?”

  Cara chose to ignore the innuendo in Trista’s voice. “When is Nicholas coming?”

  “He should be there in about five minutes. He’s taking his flatbed truck so you should be able to put all the plants on it. I gotta run. Thanks a ton for doing this.” And then Trista broke the connection.

  Cara put her phone away, disappointed to see her hands trembling. Nicholas was coming.

  She had hoped to avoid him for a few more days. At least until her heart didn’t do that silly pounding thing every time she thought of him. At least until her emotions could settle down.

  She’d just have to speed up the process.

  She was paying for the plants when, in the edge of her vision, she caught a shadow in the doorway of the nursery. The fine hairs on her arm rose up, her neck grew warm and she knew, without looking up, that Nicholas stood there.

  “Do you need help with these?” the clerk asked as he handed over her change.

  “I’ll help her.” Nicholas now stood beside her, his presence filling the room.

  She glanced up at him, disconcerted to see him looking down at her. A slow smile teased the mouth that had kissed her yesterday and as their eyes met, a shiver spiraled up her back.

  “How’s the injury?” he asked, a callused finger lightly touching the bruise on her forehead.

  “The doctor said everything was fine.” She forced her gaze away, forced her emotions under control.

  “Do all of these need to come out?” Nicholas asked, gesturing at the plants.

  “Every single one,” she said.

  Nicholas grabbed the handles of four plants and headed out the door, Cara holding only two plants, right behind him. Thankfully he had parked his truck right out the door.

  “Why don’t you stay here,” he said, placing his plants on the truck bed, “and I’ll bring the plants up to you.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” She was about to put her foot on the tire and climb up, when he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up.

  She caught her balance, then turned away from him, busying herself with arranging the plants on the truck bed. This was ridiculous, she told herself. Get a grip, woman.

  When he came out again, her control had returned and a few minutes later, all the plants were set out on the truck, ready to be moved.

  “I’m glad I came,” Nicholas said, glancing over the assortment of greenery and flowers. “It would have taken you forever to move these on your own.”

  “I could have managed,” Cara said, trying mightily to create some emotional distance from the man looking up at her. “But, yeah, it’s nice to have the help.”

  She made her way through the plants to the back of the truck determined, this time, to get down on her own.

  “So do you want to follow me?” Nicholas asked when she was on the ground again.

  Cara wanted to say no. She wanted to tell Nicholas to unload the plants himself and leave her alone. She didn’t want to fall into the feelings swirling around her. Feelings that had the potential to overwhelm her and make her lose her footing once again.

  And yet…

  She looked up into his gray eyes and, for a moment, felt peace.

  “I’ll follow you,” she said.

  While she drove behind Nicholas’s truck she phoned Aunt Lori to tell her she wasn’t coming home for dinner. She assured her aunt that she would grab a bite to eat in town.

  Twenty minutes later she pulled up behind Nicholas’s truck. He was already taking the plants off the bed.

  “I thought we could put them here,” he said, pointing with his chin to the porch. He hung up one pot, the pink petunias and blue trailing lobelia creating a bright spot of color and friendly welcome.

  Her heart did a slow flip as he hung the second pot on another old hook beside the first one. The house now looked like a home.

  She shook aside the feeling. She was here to work, not daydream.

  In no time, plants hung from every available hook and were placed along the foundation of the house, brightening the drab wood siding and filling the empty flower beds.

  “Hey, that looks great,” Nicholas said, brushing the dirt off his hands, grinning at the brightly colored plants. “I might have to get into gardening next year. Spruce the place up.”

  “You’ll have to water them regularly,” Cara reminded him.

  He shot her a quick smile. “I irrigate one hundred and sixty acres of hay. I think I can remember to do a few plants.”

  “Just saying, is all,” Cara said, sharing his smile.

  He stood, his hands on his hips, glancing from the plants to her as if not sure what to say next. “Trista asked if we could make a bit of a plan—figure out what you wanted where.”

  Cara glanced over toward the site. From here she could see the arbor already in place and a sense of sorrowful déjà vu drifted over her. This was exactly how she had imagined her own wedding site.

  “Did Mr. Elderveld put hooks in the top bar of the arbor?” Cara asked as they walked toward the site. “We’ll need them to hang plants.” Cara did a slow turn, thinking out loud. “I’d like to create some groupings of flowers of different heights, but I�
�m not sure what we can use.”

  “I have an old cream separator and a couple of cream cans we could put plants in,” Nicholas suggested.

  “Sounds great. Why don’t you get them and we can figure out where to put them.”

  While he was gone, Cara put stakes in the ground where she wanted plant pots situated.

  She heard the putt-putt of a small engine and turned, wondering what was going on.

  Nicholas pulled up beside her, astride a green ATV, pulling a trailer. “I found two old wagon wheels, as well,” he said, looking very proud of himself. “Thought we could use them somewhere.”

  Cara walked over to the trailer, her mind spinning with the possibilities. “Where did this come from?” she asked, running her hand over the antique machine. She didn’t know how a cream separator worked. She did know that the large metal bowl on the top of the column would be a perfect holder for another plant. She bent over and read the plate. “Renfrew Machinery Company. 1924.”

  “My grandfather and great-grandfather milked cows.” Nicholas gestured toward the red hip-roof barn. “My first memory of my grandmother was watching her clipping a cheesecloth on the basin and pouring milk from the cows into the separator. The skim milk would come out here, and the cream out here,” Nicholas said, pointing to two spouts offset from each other. “Then she’d haul two five-gallon pails of milk off to the pigs.” Nicholas smiled as he ran his hands over the machine. “She was a pretty tough woman, my grandmother.”

  “And your grandparents live in an old-age home now? In Calgary?”

  “You remember?” Nicholas shot her a puzzled frown.

  “I remember you talking about visiting them, yes.” It hurt that he thought she had brushed away every conversation they’d ever had.

  “I still go see them whenever I can.”

  “But no milk cows now?” Cara asked, trying to imagine Nicholas as a young boy watching his grandmother working on the same place he still lived. Cara had met her grandmother only once as she and her mother crisscrossed the continent. Her grandfather had died before Cara was born and Cara’s grandmother passed away fifteen years ago, but Cara hadn’t grieved the death of a woman she barely knew.