Her Cowboy's Twin Blessings

by Patricia Johns

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “I want to see—whatever it is you’ve got to show me. My car will be ready soon, and I have a feeling I’ve come close to outstaying my welcome with Mr. Vern, so if you have something to show me, I guess I’d better see it now.”

  Casey nodded, but the smile slipped from his face. “Yeah, of course.”

  “I doubt you want me around here getting in your way any longer than necessary, either,” she said, trying to sound more jovial than she felt.

  “I don’t know about that,” Casey said. “I’ve been getting used to you around here.”

  She smiled sadly at that. She’d been getting used to him, too. Maybe even more than that... It was hard not to lean into him, trust him. It was hard not to get comfortable in those arms.

  Was that what she was looking for in her family land—a man of her own to stand by her side and fend off the wolves? If she was, she needed to stop that fantasy right now and see this ranch for what it was.

  “I have patients who are waiting for me in Billings,” she said. “I have a whole life waiting for me.”

  “I know,” he said.

  What was he thinking? She wished she knew, but his expression was granite and he rode facing straight ahead, his hat low and shielding his face from both the sun and her scrutiny.

  “So tell me some family story of yours,” she said.

  “Is it going to say something about me?” he asked, shooting her a rueful smile.

  “Very likely,” she retorted. “But I told you mine, so you tell me yours.”

  Casey was silent for a moment, then said, “Okay... So when my grandfather was a teenager, he was in love with a girl from a rich ranching family. His dad wasn’t rich—he worked his land with nothing to spare. Anyway, so Grandpa decided to try to see the girl by sneaking onto her property and throwing rocks at her window to get her attention. He threw a rock too hard and it broke the windowpane. Her father let the dogs out, and they chased him all the way home.”

  “Did he marry her?” Ember asked with a smile.

  “He went back the next day to pay for the window and apologize to her father in person. Her father yelled at him a bit, and the girl just stood there and watched. Grandpa said that’s when he knew he could never marry her—a woman who just stood there and let someone else come down on him like that. Either she didn’t have the gumption to stand up to her father—or she didn’t love Grandpa enough to fight for him. Whichever it was, she wasn’t the one for him.”

  “Who did he marry?”

  “The girl at the ranch next door. They’d been friends for years, and she might not have been fancy, Grandpa said, but she once shot a wolf that was attacking his dog. He said a woman with an eye like that and steady trigger finger—he wanted her on his side in life.”

  Ember laughed softly. “I like that one.”

  “So what does it say about me?” Casey looked over at her, flicking his hat up higher on his forehead as he met her gaze.

  “It says your family values ability over a pretty face,” Ember said. And if that were the case, then whatever he felt for her would evaporate soon enough, because Ember didn’t have that steady trigger finger. Maybe that was for the best.

  Casey didn’t answer, and they rode on in silence for a few more minutes, the horses plodding along at their own pace. Ember let her mind wander and she looked around at the mountains in the distance, the gently undulating hills and the crystal-clear sky that stretched over them.

  There was a scattering of cows grazing and chewing their cud, and Ember smiled as she saw a calf drinking milk from its mother. The cow’s eyes followed her as she rode past—that look both protective and doe-eyed all at once.

  “Milk River is just over there—you can see the trees that line the bank.”

  “I see it.” There was a faint sparkle of water that she could just make out through the foliage.

  “This is where we’ll dismount,” Casey said, reining in his horse and swinging down from the saddle in one continuous movement. He made it look easy, and she looked down at the ground, which suddenly looked very far below her, and licked her lips nervously.

  “I’ll help you,” Casey said. He held up a hand. “Take your sprained foot out of the stirrup and stand up on your good leg. You’re going to swing it over just like you’re coming down on your own.”

  “No, that’s going to hurt—”

  “Trust me,” he interrupted her. “I’m not some kind of monster. Your foot will never hit the ground. I’ve got you.”

  Ember did as he’d instructed and put all of her weight on her good foot in the stirrup, then eased her injured foot out of the other stirrup and swung it around. The momentum kept her moving, and her stomach lurched as she started down to the ground. Before she’d gotten far, though, she felt Casey’s strong arm scoop underneath her, and she landed solidly in his arms. She let out pent-up breath and looked up to find those dark eyes pinned to hers. Casey smiled slightly, then lowered her to the ground.

  “There,” he said.

  “Thank you...” It hardly seemed like words enough to encompass how she felt about all the little things this big cowboy had been doing for her over the last week.

  “Can you walk a bit?” he asked.

  “Yes, I can hobble around,” she said with a low laugh. “It’s not graceful, but it’s a lot better than it was.”

  Casey scooped her hand up in his warm palm. “Lean on me if it’s easier,” he said. “What I want to show you is just over here.”

  A young cow let out a moo and sauntered away from them as they made their way over lush grass. Casey tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and he slowed his pace for her as she limped along. She could hear the sound of running water, even though she couldn’t see the river from this vantage point. A cool breeze lifted her hair away from her face, and she looked around, wondering what he could possibly want to show her out here.

  “Is it the herd?” she asked, looking up at him quizzically. “I don’t get it—”

  “Come on,” he said with a shake of his head. “I wouldn’t drag you all the way out here to see cattle. Give me more credit than that.”

  “Maybe you just wanted to get me alone for a bit,” she said with a teasing smile.

  Casey arched an eyebrow, then shrugged noncommittally. “I did want to get you alone. But it’s more than that. Over here.”

  Casey led the way to a rocky area that looked scuffed, like it had been dug up a little recently. And when her gaze fell on those patterns of the exposed rock, she stopped short. It was a perfect rectangle—about the size of a packing box.

  “What is it?” she asked breathlessly, looking up at Casey, and her heart sped up in her chest. She had a feeling she knew what it was, but she wanted him to say it.

  “A fireplace hearth,” he said. He pulled a trowel from his jacket pocket, sank down to his haunches and started to dig around the outside.

  “A home—there was a house right here—” Ember looked around before her gaze came back to Casey, who dug steadily around the rocks, exposing mortar and more rock as he dug. “Casey—did you know about this before?”

  “I had no idea,” he said. “Even Mr. Vern didn’t know about it. There aren’t any stories about houses by the river...not that Mr. Vern ever mentioned. But there’s more.”

  His trowel scraped raspily over rock, and then he tapped something that made a slightly different sound, and she bent down to get a better look. It was a single red brick. Her breath caught in her chest, and she stared at Casey, the words still formulating in her mind.

  Ember let out a low laugh and shook her head. “This is it. You’ve found it—the homestead. The brick! Who else would have done that? The house was by the river, they said—walking distance to fetch fresh water. And behind them were the open plains where the wolves roamed at night and the buff
alo would wander past in massive herds... This is it!”

  Casey rose to his feet, the trowel still in his hand, and she moved toward him, looking up into his eyes uncertainly.

  “This is your proof,” he said quietly.

  “And you showed it to me—” Ember shook her head slowly. “You showed it to me, knowing what it meant—for you.”

  Casey’s dark gaze met hers, and he reached up, touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I told you that you could trust me.”

  Ember put her arms around his neck. She’d meant to simply go up on her tiptoes to hug him, but with her injured ankle, tiptoes weren’t a possibility, so he came down to her, instead, and she found his face so close to hers, and she did the one thing she knew she shouldn’t—she closed her eyes and touched her lips to his.

  Casey gathered her up in his arms and kissed her back, the lowing of the cattle surfing the warm prairie wind that circled around them. This was Harper land, and she could feel it in her heart. But Casey showing her... That had been a bigger gesture than she could even comprehend right now. Her heart soared with excitement, and when Casey released her, she felt heat rush to her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, hobbling back. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Hey.” Casey caught her hand in his, stopping her retreat. “It’s okay. That was honest.”

  And it was. She met his eyes once more and found that warm gaze enveloping her.

  “I have my proof,” she said. “This is it—the land where all those stories took place. It’s like my very own holy land.”

  “It’s yours,” he said quietly.

  “Pa and Mam must have chosen this place, and I can see why. They had no idea how many children they’d have, or how they’d make it each winter, but they managed.” She looked around once more at the swell of the field and the jagged peaks beyond. Despite today’s modern world, it was still so rugged, so vast. Even knowing this land was settled, she felt like a speck on the landscape.

  “But what about you, Casey?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he said, his eyes filled with sadness. “Fair is fair.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ember went with Casey to church Wednesday evening for the farewell service. They sat in the back of the little country chapel, the babies sleeping in their arms as they had the week before.

  “Would you like me to take the baby for a bit?” an older woman asked Ember with a smile.

  Ember hesitated, then looked down into the dozy face of the tiny boy. He opened his mouth in a yawn, and she smiled down at him.

  “Actually, I’d rather hold him,” she said. “But thanks.”

  The woman moved off and Ember allowed herself the brief luxury of leaning into Casey’s strong shoulder and enjoying Wyatt’s sleepy warmth in her arms. She’d come to care for these babies more than any of them knew. They’d sunk into her heart, no matter how hard she tried to protect herself, and when she went back to the city again she’d miss them deeply.

  Ember looked up at the stained-glass windows, her gaze following the pictures backlit by early evening sunlight. The first pane showed the Virgin Mary sitting with her son on her lap, and she sparkled with bright colors and obvious joy. The next pane showed her bowed by the foot of the cross, her heart breaking in a way only a mother could understand. And the last pane showed Mary in her iconic blue robe standing before the empty tomb, and those bright, glittering colors of wonder and happiness were back.

  Mary was the mother every Christian woman looked to...the mother who had endured the deepest of all heartbreak, all for the sake of her son. Ember tore her eyes from the stained-glass windows. Sometimes, motherhood meant enduring untold pain like Mary had. Mary might not have said goodbye to her boy in infancy, but she’d had to relinquish him eventually, and it would have torn her heart in two.

  Casey’s little finger touched the side of Ember’s hand, pulling her attention back to him. The movement was gentle, purposeful. She looked over at him, her heart swelling with sadness. His face was clean-shaven for church, and he smelled of the musky aftershave he must have used. His shirt was crisp and open at the neck, revealing his tanned skin. He caught her eye, and he slipped his hand over hers, warming hers. She wished she could freeze time, and she could avoid all the changes that were coming.

  She’d miss Casey and the babies, and she realized that she’d worry about them a little bit, too. Would Casey’s aunt understand Wyatt’s need for snuggles after his bottle, or Will’s curiosity and the way he liked to look around the room? When the infants cried for their mother, as Ember was convinced they still did, would Casey’s aunt know why those little hearts were breaking?

  But these babies weren’t Ember’s business—not officially. Casey would raise them, and he’d find appropriate childcare for them. He would find a job somewhere, and another ranch would benefit from his expertise... And she’d begin the process of setting up her own therapy center here on her family’s land. Life would go on, and Ember’s hopes and goals would be achieved.

  So why wasn’t she feeling happier about that? It was hard to feel the full impact of that joy because she’d be both putting a good number of men out of work, and moving forward in her goals without Casey Courtright in her life, and until a week ago, that would have meant nothing to her.

  He shouldn’t matter! But he did. He’d proved himself to be invaluable—he’d saved her life! He’d shown her the very spot where her family had built their homestead... He’d been her answer to prayer. He’d caught her when she was injured, carried her when she was weak and kissed her so tenderly that she’d melted under his touch. And yet he couldn’t be her answer to every prayer.

  Sure, just tell her heart that—it hadn’t caught up.

  This was a goodbye service for the current pastor—his last sermon to be preached in this church. Another pastor would come and lead this country parish, and the sentiment of goodbyes seemed appropriate this week.

  The pastor’s sermon wound up, and he sat down. The pianist went to her place at the old piano and began the prelude to the last hymn. The service was over.

  “You okay?” Casey whispered as he picked up the worn hymnal and flipped it open.

  Ember nodded. “I’ll have to be.”

  “Do you want to head out early?” He leaned down to keep his words private.

  Ember’s heart was too full to stand there listening to those sweet old hymns and still be able to keep her emotions under control. She glanced around—the other parishioners had risen to their feet and the first swell of singing began.

  “Let’s go,” she agreed softly, and Casey dropped her hand. Casey waited for Ember in the aisle, and then they slipped out the back door, leaving the service behind them as they headed for the freedom of sunshine.

  Ember’s ankle was still sore, but much better than before. They paused in the rosy wash of lowering sun and Casey got the car seats out of the truck.

  “It might be easier if we can put them down,” he said.

  They got the babies settled into their seats, and then Casey nodded toward the fence line that cut off church property from a neighboring field.

  “Let’s go over there,” he said.

  Ember nodded. The babies were still fast asleep, and they ambled across the grass together. Casey put the car seats down on the grass by the fence, angling them so that the boys’ faces stayed shaded. Across the grass, the piano could still be heard, the chords seeping out of the church and into nature. Toward the west, pink and red washed over the sky, the sun large on the horizon.

  “You haven’t put your offer in on the ranch yet,” Casey said, breaking the quiet.

  “Not yet,” she admitted.

  “Are you going to?” he asked.

  Ember nodded. “Yes, I am. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it yesterday. I don’t know why...”
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br />   “It’ll change this,” he said, his voice low and hollow. “Us. It’ll end whatever we’re doing here.”

  “And what are we doing?” she asked, turning toward him. “We’ve crossed all professional lines, you know.”

  Casey looked down at her, then shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been falling for you something fierce.”

  Tears misted Ember’s eyes and she shook her head. “We can’t do this—”

  “I think it’s already done.”

  Ember put her hand on the rough wooden fence, and he slid a warm palm on top of hers. He was so confident, so comforting, and she tipped her head over onto his shoulder and heaved a sigh.

  “Why won’t you work for me, Casey?” she pleaded softly.

  “I can’t do it.” His voice was low and filled with pain.

  “And why not?” She lifted her head and looked up at him. “Are you just that stubborn?”

  “I have a couple of good reasons,” he said, still not looking at her. He was staring out into the rippling field of young, green wheat. “The first is that I’m a rancher, not some city-slicker babysitter.”

  “That’s harsh, but fine,” she said. “And the second reason?”

  “I fell in love with you.” He finally looked over at her, those dark eyes drilling into hers, and he sighed. “Against all my better judgment, might I add.”

  “You...” she breathed. “You love me?”

  “I didn’t say it was logical or right,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But yes.”

  And it suddenly all fell into place for her. She could see it come together, and this missing piece explained it all—her misery, her inability to embrace the blessings she had because they didn’t include the tall, protective cowboy in the picture.

  “I love you, too,” she said, the words catching in her throat, and Casey turned and pulled her into his arms, his lips covering hers with a kiss of longing and anguish. He kissed her long and slow, and when he pulled back, she saw tears glistening in his eyes.