Carolyne Aarsen - Reunited with the Cowboy

“I understand from your mother that you’ll be around the ranch for a few weeks,” Alice said, cradling her cup of coffee in her hands, lifting one eyebrow as if in query.

“I’m here until my car is fixed,” Heather said, going to pour herself another cup of coffee. And while she was here, she would be sending out her résumé to whoever she could.

“That could work out well for me,” Alice continued. “I just got a call from my aunt this morning. She’s not been feeling well. If you’re going to be here, I could visit her. Your mother is still fragile and I wouldn’t feel right leaving her and Adana alone. Keira is busy with her work and wedding plans, so I don’t think it would be fair to ask her.”

Heather sneaked a quick glance toward Adana, who was noisily sucking back a sippy cup of milk. She put her cup down and grinned, showing her tiny top teeth. “Hi, Hevver,” she said.

Heather’s heart warmed at the sound of the little girl saying her name. Obviously she was as smart as her mother.

“If it doesn’t work, I can reschedule...” As Alice’s sentence trailed off, Heather guessed the woman sensed her hesitation.

“Or we could find somebody else,” Ellen said.

Heather caught her mother’s rueful smile and hastily put her hand on her arm, hoping and praying that her mom didn’t think her lack of enthusiasm had anything to do with her.

“Of course I can help out today,” Heather quickly said, giving her a reassuring look. She was free for the next few days. The least she could do was help where she was needed.

“That’s wonderful,” Alice said, sounding relieved. “Would you mind terribly if I left right away?”

So soon?

“Sure. That’d be fine,” Heather said with a confidence she certainly didn’t feel. “Just tell me what I need to do for my mother, and I’m sure I can figure out what to do with Adana. How hard can it be to take care of a toddler?”

“Not hard at all. She’s a little sweetheart,” Ellen said, reaching over and tucking Adana’s bib under her chin.

The child banged her cup on her tray table, then looked at the gathered women, as if sensing the conversation was about her. She gurgled in pleasure at the attention, happily oblivious to the gnawing pain in Heather’s soul that her very presence created.

It’s just for today , Heather told herself. She could handle it for one day.

* * *

“You’re good to go,” John called out to Monty as he pushed on the fence tightener.

Down the fence line, he could see the rancher swinging his hammer, pounding in the staples on the barbed wire that John had just pulled taut.

They had been busy all afternoon, wading through mud, the occasional snowdrift and sometimes walking on bare ground, working their way down the fence toward the home place, getting the calving area ready. In a month they would be busy, calving out cows. The sun beating down on John’s back was a promise of the warmer weather coming.

Soon , he thought, pounding the last nail on his end and pulling off the tightener. He glanced up at the hills, which were already bare of snow, and across the pasture, where only a few drifts leftover from the last storm lay stranded against fence and tree lines.

He dropped the hammer in his pail of tools and lifted it off the ground. In only a few days, the drifts had receded substantially, leaving mud in their wake.

On Saturday they had to process the cows and give them their precalving shots. He wasn’t looking forward to herding them through all this dirt.

“So, we done with this?” Monty called out as he strode toward him.

“That was the last of it,” John said.

“Good. I’ll head over to the corrals and check them once more before we have to run all the cows through.” He nodded toward the house. “You just take a moment to say hi to your little girl.”

A high-pitched squeal of laughter caught John’s attention and his smile grew.

But when he turned, he frowned at what he saw. Heather was pulling a high-sided wagon. Adana sat inside, leaning over the edge, staring at the ground rolling past her as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

His eyes reluctantly touched on Heather, who was looking everywhere but at him. She had put a down vest over her shirt, a concession to the brisk spring weather.

Though she still looked as if she was heading to a fashion shoot, the down-home clothes were a reminder of happier times. When they would go out riding. When he would watch her run barrels, timing her and coaching her.

He shook his head, as if to dislodge the errant memories he wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in.

“Where’s Alice?” he asked. He set the pail down and halfheartedly walked toward them. They met halfway between the pens and the house, the tapping of Monty’s hammer echoing over the yard.

“Daddy, ride,” Adana called out, reaching for him. He picked her up, settling her against his hip.

“She left this morning to visit her aunt,” Heather said. “She asked me to help out with Adana while she was gone.”

John narrowed his eyes at the thought of Heather taking care of his daughter. “Just for today?”

“It’s fine. I...I can manage. I’m not familiar with kids, mind you...”

“I sensed that,” he stated, holding Adana a little closer. She laid her head against him, as she often did when she was tired or upset. Did she also feel Heather’s discomfort?

He felt the same overwhelming need to protect his daughter that he had felt when he’d brought her home from the hospital. He had made a promise to himself that he would protect her, take care of her and make up for all she had lost.

“That’s why I think I should take care of her,” he added.

“But you’re busy. I thought...I understood that’s why Alice and Mom look after her. So you can work?”

“I’ll figure a way around it.” He glanced down the fence line toward Monty.

Heather lifted her head, staring him down. “You don’t think I’m capable.”

In spite of the confrontational tone of her voice, he caught a glimpse of hurt in her features. His resolve wavered a moment, but then he felt the warmth of Adana’s head against his neck.

“It’s not how capable you are. It’s how willing you are.” He sighed for a moment, then continued. “Like I said, I sensed that you’re not comfortable around her. I don’t want my daughter to feel like she’s unwanted.”

Heather couldn’t hold his gaze. Her eyes, with those impossibly long lashes, lowered protectively. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know how it looks. It’s just...she reminds me...” She stopped there, her hands twisting together.

She seemed genuinely upset.

“Reminds you of...” he prodded.

She bit her lip, shook her head, then slowly, almost reluctantly, looked up. He caught the faintest shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Adana is a sweet little girl and I don’t mind taking care of her.”

But John couldn’t ignore the brief glimpse of sorrow in her eyes and in her voice. Older emotions sifted into the moment and he thought of her upbringing. “Is this because of your mother?”

She frowned and he realized he’d barked up the wrong tree.

“No. Nothing to do with her.” She waved off his comment with one hand. But that didn’t erase his curiosity. There was more to this than she was letting on.

“I can take care of her,” Heather said, reaching out for his daughter. “I know you and Dad have a lot of work to do before calving.”

Still John hesitated, glancing from Heather to Monty. He had to be realistic. He couldn’t take care of his daughter today.

Then Adana made up his mind for him. She patted him on the cheek with one chubby hand, as if to reassure him, then stretched her arms out toward Heather, her fingers clenching and unclenching.