Carolyne Aarsen - A Cowboy For The Twins

“Does your mom live just before Mrs. Fisher’s?” Millie asked, her eyes suddenly wide. “Does she own the place with the big gate?”

“That’s it. The T Bar C.” His father’s ranch. As a young man, he couldn’t leave it fast enough. He had returned from time to time but only for a quick visit. He hadn’t come back for the past year. Since Josiah Rodriguez died working for him, shame and guilt had kept him away from the ranch and Cedar Ridge.

But his cousin’s wedding had brought him back. He knew he couldn’t get out of that obligation. While here, he hoped to convince his mother to finally let go of the ranch. Sell it and move with him to Vancouver. After Josiah died on his job site, Noah had hung on to the business long enough to deal with the inquiries and inspections. Then he sold it. He currently had a line on a new business he wanted to start, a small trucking company. It would be a fresh start in a different business.

He knew his mother hoped he would come back to the ranch, take it over and keep the Cosgrove legacy going. That wasn’t happening. To him, the ranch had always been a symbol of relentless, backbreaking work, a demanding father who was never satisfied.

Cedar Ridge didn’t hold any special memories for him.

“That’s such an awesome place. I love it,” the little girl said excitedly.

“It is a nice place.” He was surprised to hear a faint note of melancholy in his voice as he looked at his childhood home through her eyes.

“So, can you help us out by driving us around?” Millie asked. “So we can get more money in our nest?”

He glanced Shauntelle’s way. He saw she wasn’t keen on the idea, but at the same time he didn’t feel right leaving her stranded here.

“Sure. I can help you out.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Millie said, shooting her mother an expectant look.

Shauntelle blew out a sigh of resignation. “I guess we don’t have much choice.”

“Just one thing, though,” Noah said. “I’d like to stop in and see my mother. Make sure she’s okay before we head out.”

“Of course,” Shauntelle said.

“So first off, let me know what you need from the car,” Noah said.

Shauntelle walked to the hatchback, yanked it open and pulled out one of the three coolers, indicating the other two with her chin. “I need all those, and there’s a carrier with muffins as well.”

Noah nodded and hefted one cooler out, set the second one on top and carried them both to his truck. “We can put them in the box or the back of the truck,” he said.

“Box is fine.”

“I’ll drive slow. That way you won’t have to worry about your baking getting squashed. Don’t want you to have to give anyone a discount.” He added a grin to show he was kidding, but she didn’t smile.

While he hadn’t been in the same grade as Shauntelle growing up, he knew enough about her. Knew that she had a keen sense of humor and was quick with a comeback.

But the weary-looking woman in front of him bore no resemblance to that fun, spunky girl. And he felt that he had contributed to the faint lines bracketing her cheeks and marring her forehead.

He set the coolers on the ground by the rear of the truck, popped open the tailgate and slid them all in. He hopped on board in one easy motion and pushed them to the front of the box. He shifted his heavy toolbox to keep two of them from sliding around, though he was sure they’d be okay.

Then he jumped down.

“You’re really good at that,” the other twin said, her voice full of admiration.

“Doesn’t take much skill,” he returned with a half smile. “But I’m used to climbing ladders and jumping off roofs.”

Millie frowned in confusion. “What do you do?”

“I’m a contractor. Carpenter,” he corrected.

Millie nodded, her frown deepening. “Our uncle Josiah was a carpenter too. But he died when he fell down. My mom said his boss was a greedy man, and that’s why my uncle died.”

Her innocent voice spelling out the reasons for Josiah’s death hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” was all he said.

At that moment, he happened to glance at Shauntelle. The sorrow on her face was replaced by a tightening of her lips, a narrowing of her eyes.

He shouldn’t be surprised. During all the inquiries and investigations and follow-up by the various boards and organizations, he had occasionally run into Shauntelle’s parents and got a clear idea what they thought of him.

But Shauntelle’s reaction bothered him more.

He spun around and headed to the car to close the hatch just as Shauntelle walked in the same direction. They almost collided, and instinctively he reached out to steady her.

For a split second, she stayed still, getting her balance before jerking her arm away. She ducked inside the car, coming out with two booster seats.

“Do you want me to put those in the truck?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she walked back to his truck to do the job herself. A few minutes later the girls were buckled in, the car was locked up—even though Noah doubted anyone would steal it—and they were headed down the road to Mrs. Fisher’s.

The drive to Carmen’s place was quiet. What do you say when a young girl inadvertently accused you of being greedy and the cause of her uncle’s death? Trouble was, he felt it was true in spite of what the reports had said.

Might-have-beens crowded into his mind, creating their own regret and pain.

He eased out a breath, trying to ignore the woman on the seat beside him. Shauntelle sat as close to the door as physically possible, as if giving herself maximum distance between them.

“This is a really nice truck,” Millie said from the back seat of the crew cab. “Lots of room.”

“I like the color,” the other twin said.

“Red is Margaret’s favorite color,” Millie put in authoritatively. “She wants to paint her room red when we get our own house. But Mom said we can’t until the restaurant is finished and it starts making money. I want to paint my room pink.”

“That sounds nice,” Noah said, going along with the conversation. Anything to break the awkward silence between him and Shauntelle.

“So are you Mrs. Cosgrove’s son?” Millie asked.

“Yes I am.”

“Are you Noah Cosgrove?”

“Guilty as charged,” he returned, then realized how that sounded. Too on the nose, he thought.

Another beat of silence followed his comment.

“Our uncle Josiah worked for you.” This came out sounding like an accusation.

“Yes. He did.” Noah shot a quick glance in the rearview mirror at Millie, who sat behind her mother.

She frowned, as if absorbing this information. Then she looked over at Noah. “You don’t look like an evil man.”

“Millie, that’s enough,” Shauntelle said quietly.

“But he doesn’t. He looks like a nice man and he’s helping us.”

Shauntelle turned to the girls, and Noah caught a warning glance sent her daughter’s way. Millie got the hint and looked out the window.

They pulled up to Carmen’s place and Noah got out, the girls’ innocent words hounding him. “What do you need?” he asked.

“I’ll get it myself.” She sounded tired, so instead of listening to her, he got out of the truck as well and climbed up into the box.

“Tell me what I should grab,” he asked, opening the coolers.

“The muffins and the two loaves of bread from the box and the meat pie from the cooler. They’re marked with Carmen’s name.”

Noah found what she described and handed them to her.

Taking them, she turned and walked away. Noah got out of the truck box and watched her as she strode up the graveled path to Carmen Fisher’s house, her thick brown hair shifting and bouncing on her shoulders. She had an easy grace and presence. He remembered being vaguely aware of her in school.