Cattleman's Courtship

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Cara waited for the general laughter following that comment to die down. “Trista taught me how to put on makeup, how to dress, how to do my hair and how to talk to guys—something that I struggled with.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Trista’s brother called out.

  More polite laughter.

  “Lorne, I want you to know that Trista is a loyal, caring, warmhearted person. Trista stood up for me when I got picked on by kids who thought I was a bit strange because I’d never stayed long in one place.” Cara’s eyes were on Trista but she sensed Nicholas’s intent gaze, as real as a touch—caught his puzzled frown. When they were together, she had kept comments about her past to minimal jokes, adopting a breezy tone as if none of it mattered. But it had, and in her desire to show Trista what her friendship meant, she had unwittingly exposed herself.

  His attentiveness made her falter a moment, but she recovered. What did it matter what he knew about her now? Nothing she said would have an effect on their lives.

  “Trista stood up for me as, for what seemed like the hundredth time, I navigated yet again unfamiliar ground of new schools and new people,” Cara said, soldiering on. “She stood up for me when I needed a friend and, at times, a shoulder to cry on when I felt all alone. She lent me her clothes, her advice and helped me find my place. She stood by me through thick and thin and it’s an honor to stand up for her now.” She looked around the room. “Could you all join me in a toast to a beautiful bride, a dear friend and a loving wife.”

  “To Trista,” was echoed around the tent.

  As she walked back to the head table, her gaze unwittingly slipped past Trista.

  Nicholas stared at her, his features now an enigmatic mask.

  Cara sat down, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Nicholas Chapman, best friend of the groom and also single, is well-known to most of us. He’s lived here all his life, though the past number of years more than half his time is spent raking in the money on offshore rigs and, lately, Kuwait. According to Lorne he’s hoping to retire early so he can sit and count his ill-gotten gains.” Bert threw Nicholas a mischievous grin. “But for now he’s still working. So, girls, if you want to catch him, you’ve got about a week until he ships out again, so no dilly-dallying.”

  He stepped aside to polite laughter as Nicholas made his way to the podium.

  “Good evening,” Nicholas said, looking around the gathering. “I’ve known Lorne since I was a kid. I’ve got more memories than we’ve got time but if you want to know particulars about the night the cows got into his dad’s wheat crop, or how the sugar got into his brother’s motorcycle’s gas tank, or why the windmill stopped working, or how the graffiti got on the number two overpass…well, suffice it to say I’ll be here all night.” He winked at Lorne. “Trista, you and Lorne are meant for each other. I know Lorne will be a loving, caring husband. That he will treat you with respect and consideration. That he will put your needs first and that he will be a support to you in your faith journey.” He lifted his glass. “To Lorne.”

  Cara kept her eyes down as Nicholas talked, his voice pulling at old memories. Yet his words cut when he spoke of Lorne putting Trista’s needs first.

  He didn’t see it, she thought. He didn’t see what he had done to her and her headache increased.

  Cara leaned close to Trista. “I have to go get my purse. I’ll just be a minute.”

  “You okay?” Trista asked. “You look a bit pale.”

  “Headache. I’ll be okay.”

  Cara got up and left the tent, thankful for the cooling evening air. She deliberately took her time walking to the house, her frustration with Nicholas slowly easing with each step she took.

  Why should his words bother her? Just because he recognized that Lorne would put Trista first, didn’t mean he’d do the same.

  She found her purse in the room they had changed in, popped a couple of aspirin and left, closing the door behind her.

  Across the hall, the door to Nicholas’s room was open. Curiosity drew her to the doorway and she took a quick look in. Pictures of various rodeo cowboys hung on the wall right above a trophy he must have received competing in a rodeo.

  A small pair of cowboy boots sat on a shelf above his bed. His, she presumed. Old school pictures hung on one wall beside some older pictures of what seemed to be his grandparents. Beside them, a wedding photo of his parents, which surprised her. Though Nicholas never talked about his mother, he obviously still cared about her.

  As she looked around the room filled with the detritus of a life lived in one place, a sense of homesickness nudged her.

  The only place she had ever stayed long enough to collect memorabilia was at her aunt and uncle’s place in Cochrane. And even then, the only things she had in her bedroom were a few mementos from the two years she went to high school here.

  Once again she was struck by the fact that Nicholas had history. With a wistful smile, she turned away and went downstairs.

  She closed the door of the house behind her, and just as she headed down the porch stairs, a tall figure loomed in the dark. She stifled a startled scream before she realized it was Nicholas.

  “Are you okay?” He had one hand slung up in his pocket, the other tapped the seam of his pants.

  She remembered too well the touch of that hand on her hip, the other on hers. And how, for a moment, she had felt safe.

  “I have a bit of a headache,” she said. “I was heading back to the party.”

  “Trista sent me looking for you. They’re about to do the first dance.”

  Cara nodded her acknowledgment of her obligations even as her heart fluttered at the thought of dancing with Nicholas.

  But before she left, he caught her hand and turned her back to him. In the gathering dusk, his glittering eyes were focused on her like a laser.

  “You never told me it was hard for you coming here.”

  She shrugged aside his comment, adopting a breezy tone to let him know it didn’t matter. “That was way in the past. I only wanted Trista to know what she did for me, that’s all.”

  Thankfully he didn’t say anything, but as they walked back, he kept his hand in the small of her back, sending tiny shivers dancing up her spine. But she didn’t move away.

  The music had already started when they made their way back into the tent. Trista and Lorne were already twirling around on the dance floor, eyes only for each other. Cara watched them with a smile. They made such a perfect couple.

  The music changed, and Trista turned and beckoned to her. That was the signal for Cara and Nicholas to join them.

  “Shall we?” Nicholas held his hand out to her, and she placed hers in his. This time his hand was warm and hers cold. His fingers tightened as he gently drew her into his arms.

  Cara’s hand trembled as she laid it on his shoulder, and her heart fluttered out an irregular beat. She tried to keep herself distant from him, but then his hand on her waist slipped around and drew her closer.

  Once again she was struck by how right it felt to be in his arms. As if she had been lost for a time and was now where she belonged.

  She closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the moment. Then giving into an impulse, she slipped her arm around his back, and laid her head on his shoulder.

  She drew in a long, slow breath, and eased it out, hardly daring to breathe.

  Forgive me, Lord, she prayed, as her arm tightened around him. He still means so much to me.

  His breath fanned her hair, and then to her surprise, she heard him whisper her name.

  “What is it?” she whispered back.

  “I missed you.” He words came out in a sigh, warm on her ear. “I didn’t want to, but I do.”

  Though he whispered the words, they thundered in her ear, creating a storm of confusion. She thought of how aloof he had looked the past hour, of how he kept his distance.

  “I thought you were angry with me,” she said, keeping her head on his shoulder.

  �
��I was. I was angry because I couldn’t help how I still feel about you.”

  She thought again of the kiss they had shared. What was happening between them? And what was she supposed to do about it?

  Time and time again she was confronted with her old feelings for Nicholas. And somehow, since coming back to Cochrane, they had changed, grown deeper, more intense.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said the other day,” he said. “About how you had planned our wedding.” He drew back to look at her face. “How you had seen us with a future.”

  “At one time, I did.”

  “I did, too.”

  He spun her around in time to the music and then spoke again, his voice deep, intense.

  “I can’t get you out of my mind, Cara. I thought I could, but you keep haunting me.”

  His words sang through her soul. He felt the same way she did, she thought, as her heart took a long, slow dive.

  She leaned back a bit as Nicholas made another turn, the twinkling minilights softening the lean line of his jaw.

  “I keep thinking about you, too,” she returned, holding his earnest gaze.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of just thinking. Do you think there is a chance for us?”

  Cara nestled her head against his neck, her fluttering heart now thundering out its beat.

  “Maybe,” she whispered back. It wasn’t much, but for now it was all she could give him. She was still afraid of him and the emotions he easily resurrected in her.

  Yet the thought of being without him seemed harder to bear than the thought of being with him.

  Then, to her surprise, his lips brushed her temple, then her cheek. She closed her eyes, letting him beguile her.

  Then it seemed all too soon the music stopped and the dance was over. Nicholas gently drew back, and fingered a strand of hair away from her face.

  “We need to talk,” he said. “But not here and now.” He released her but he still held her hands. “Will you go out with me? Tuesday?”

  Cara couldn’t look away and knew she couldn’t say no.

  “I want to get things cleared up between us,” he continued. “I feel like we didn’t finish our last conversation.”

  That was because she didn’t think there was anything left to say.

  “Okay. Where should we meet?” she asked.

  His eyes looked dark, and as Cara held his gaze awareness arced between them. “Would you be willing to come here?”

  She nodded, then drifted toward him and a sudden tap on her shoulder pulled her back to reality. She blinked, then turned.

  “I’ve come to collect my dance.” Tod stood in front of her, grinning as he held his hand out.

  Cara looked back at Nicholas, almost hoping he would rescue her. But he stepped aside and gestured for Tod to take over.

  Tod took her in his arms. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” he said. “Hoping maybe we could pick up where we left off.”

  My, wasn’t she the popular ex-girlfriend tonight, she thought, with a touch of cynicism as Tod twirled her around the dance floor.

  She only listened with half an ear to Tod, gave him an occasional distracted smile. Tod was better looking but as she danced with him, her eyes continually sought and found Nicholas. And each time she saw him, he was watching her with an enigmatic expression on his face.

  When the dance was over, she begged off and went to get a drink from the lemonade fountain. She looked for Nicholas and saw him standing to one side of the party, talking to someone she didn’t recognize. He laughed, patted the man on the shoulder and moved on, mixing with the people. People he knew and had known since he was a child.

  He belongs here. The thought settled with certainty. This is his home and his community.

  She sat a few dances out, chatted with a few people, but her eyes kept finding his.

  Each time their eyes met, she knew she hadn’t imagined that surreal moment on the dance floor.

  And anticipation over what would happen on Tuesday seemed to rise with each shared look across the room, each light brush of his hand as he passed her.

  What would he talk about?

  And would it change her plans?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cara’s eyes flicked over the church bulletin but she wasn’t reading anything she saw.

  Every time a man walked down the aisle of the church her heart started up. But so far Nicholas hadn’t shown up.

  This morning, when she got up in time to go to church with her aunt and uncle, Aunt Lori barely managed to hide her surprise.

  Though she’d crawled into bed at three-thirty after helping the families clean up, exchanging glances with Nicholas the entire time, she couldn’t sleep.

  Too many thoughts were clamoring for attention. Between the sermon from the pastor at the wedding and Nicholas’s sudden confession, she didn’t know which way to turn.

  On the one hand God promised that He’d never leave her alone. And on the other, she ran the risk of letting that promise be taken over by what Nicholas might want to talk to her about.

  Did the two need to be mutually exclusive? Was she looking for signs where she should simply be looking to renew her relationship with God and let everything else fall where it may?

  So she came to church, hoping to find nourishment for a soul that had kept itself far from God too long.

  And hoping Nicholas would show.

  The worship team came to the front and started playing a song Cara remembered from her earlier years. By the third verse, Cara had let the words of the song soothe her anticipation and put it where it should be.

  The peace promised her in the song stole over her.

  “Hey there.”

  The deep voice shivered through her, shaking her newfound serenity.

  She turned to Nicholas. “Hey yourself.”

  He sat down beside her and, ignoring her aunt’s raised eyebrows and her uncle’s puzzled frown, she gave him a careful smile.

  “You got up early for being out so late last night,” he said quietly, leaning close to her.

  “So did you,” she whispered back. “Did everyone leave after I did?” “Pretty much.”

  And suddenly there was nothing more to say. Either they moved directly into what Nicholas wanted to talk about or they bided their time until they could do it properly.

  One step at a time, Cara told herself. She wasn’t sure what lay ahead. Her plans were still in place and she had no solid reason to change them.

  So why did she feel another possibility glimmering over the horizon?

  Keep your focus on the pastor, she reminded herself, drawing comfort and encouragement from what he said.

  Her soul drank it all in, yearning for more.

  As they rose to sing the final song, a sense of contentment overrode her other feelings. She didn’t know what lay ahead, but she knew God held her life in His hands.

  As the notes from the final song faded away, Nicholas turned to her. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Make arrangements for Tuesday, okay?”

  She held his gaze and nodded as expectation quivered between them.

  “Those bales are heavy,” Dale said, leaning back against the bale wagon piled high with sweet-smelling hay bales. “Hay is looking good.”

  Nicholas took a long sip of the iced tea his father had brought out, his eyes wandering over the tight, round bales still dotting the field. The summer smell of warm hay permeated the air, creating a feeling of well-being.

  “Did you check the heifers before you came here?” Nicholas asked.

  His father nodded. “Crackerjack bunch of animals. That guy in Montana will be thrilled.” His father pushed his hat back on his head and took another sip of lemonade. “Is that Morrison girl going to do the test?”

  “Not sure, Dad.” Nicholas sighed, then glanced up at his father. “Why do you talk that way about her?”

  His father blew out his breath and took another sip of iced tea. “You’re not getting
involved with her again, are you?”

  Nicholas’s mind ticked back the wedding—the moment of closeness with Cara. Was he getting involved with her? But he didn’t answer his father.

  “You still never told me much about that day you two came riding back on Two Bits,” his father said.

  “Like I told you, my horse spooked, she got dumped and I was worried about her.” Nicholas conveniently glossed over the kiss they had shared. The kiss that had rocked his world.

  “And the wedding? You’ve been walking around in some kind of daze since then.”

  And it was a good thing his father had gone to that rodeo at Sundre the day of the wedding. Nicholas said he wanted his dad’s help but now Nicholas realized his absence was for the best. His father had missed his dance with Cara.

  He didn’t need his father ragging on him about Cara. Not when he wasn’t sure himself where things were going and what was happening. For now, he was taking things one day at a time.

  “Is she starting to get to you?” Dale pressed.

  “I’ve got things under control,” was all Nicholas said, squinting at the sun as his narrowed eyes followed the contours of the land. He knew every hummock, had ridden through every valley and moved cows over every hill.

  And he hoped one day he could show his own son or daughter the land that had been in the Chapman family for so many generations. He wondered what that child would look like.

  Wondered who would be standing beside him.

  “She’s a distraction,” his father continued. He just wouldn’t give up.

  “What do you mean?” Nicholas pulled his attention back to his dad.

  “You said yourself after she left that she doesn’t get your commitment to the ranch. Doesn’t understand how it’s in your blood and in your soul.”

  Nicholas had thought that at one time. But after that aborted ride into the hills with Trista and Lorne, he wasn’t so sure. As he and Cara rode and talked, he sensed she understood his attraction to the land and history that permeated his life.

  “Cara left you once before, Nicholas. Not only left you, ran out on you without a word. Don’t fall for her again. I can see how she looks at you. She still feels something for you. You’ve got to keep your eye on the prize,” Dale continued. “A few more years and the ranch will be where it should be. That’s a sacrifice worth making.”