A Cowboy For The Twins
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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.
And then, one summer, it was as if she had blossomed, and she had really caught his attention.
Trouble was he was dating Trista Herne, and Shauntelle was four years younger than he was. While that meant little now, in high school it was a vast gulf he couldn’t breach. So he kept his distance. And then, as soon as he had the diploma in his hand, he left. The first time he had come back was for his father’s funeral six years later. By that time, Shauntelle was gone.
“That’s a cute house too,” Millie said, hanging out the window she had opened. Clearly she didn’t mind that he was “an evil man.”
“It is,” Noah agreed. “It’s part of the T Bar C. The ranch foreman used to live there.” Noah adjusted his hat, dropping his hands on his hips as his mind shifted back to times he had tried to erase from his memory. Long days and nights working until he could barely stand. Fencing, building sheds, herding cows, baling hay and stacking bales. There was always work to do.
He remembered one evening he had been baling in a field just past this house. The tractor broke down at the far end of the field. Terrified of what his father would say, he stayed with the tractor. Then Doug and Julie had come home early from their outing. They brought him supper, and while he ate, Doug repaired the tractor. Then he sent Noah home and finished the baling himself. His father, however, was furious that he had made Doug work on his day off.
“Why doesn’t the foreman live there now?”
“My mother doesn’t need a ranch foreman,” he said as he got back into the truck.
“Why not?”
“The ranch doesn’t have as many cows as it used to.” He wished his mother would sell them. She had to hire someone to feed the cows and the horses that she wouldn’t sell either.
Noah suspected it was a way of recognizing the hard work his father had done to make up for the way Noah’s grandfather ran the T Bar C into the ground with his poor management. Though his father had struggled to bring it back to its former glory, low commodity prices had made it almost impossible. He worked like a dog and made sure Noah did as well. He’d died from a heart attack when he was feeding the cows. Noah often felt that the hard work, stress and his father’s personality had combined to cause his death.
Shauntelle came back and got into the truck, giving him a tight nod. “Thanks.”
“So you’re okay with stopping to see my mom?” Noah asked.
“I can hardly complain,” Shauntelle said with a note of asperity.
He sensed it was difficult for her to spend time with him, but she had no choice.
They drove just half a kilometer back down the road and under the imposing gate of the T Bar C.
“That’s an awesome gate,” Millie said, craning her head to get a better look.
“It should be,” Noah said. “I helped build it.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Took me and my dad two days and a lot of stress to get it up.”
He stopped as he heard the bitter note that entered his voice. Too well, he remembered being perched on the top of the upright, reaching for the cross beam his father was raising with the tractor. The near miss as the beam swayed and almost knocked him off. The anger his father spewed at him even though it wasn’t his fault.
No, the T Bar C held no memories he wanted to nurture.
They drove down the winding drive lined with elm trees his great-grandmother had planted in a fit of optimism. To everyone’s surprise, they flourished and now created a canopy of shifting shadows that teased the sunshine filtering through.
“Wow. This is beautiful,” the girls breathed.
Then they turned a corner, and the log ranch house came into view.
It was perched on a hill with a small creek flowing in front of it. A wooden bridge arched over it. Flower beds, in various states of neglect, stair-stepped up the side of the hill toward the imposing log house.
“That’s the coolest house ever,” Margaret breathed, unbuckling and leaning over the seat.
“Did you build it?” Millie asked.
“No. My grandfather did. He was a carpenter as well as a rancher.” Noah shot a sidelong glance at Shauntelle to gauge her reaction. Though she had lived here most of her life, she had never been on the ranch, to his knowledge.
Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed an O of surprise. Then, as quickly as that came, her features shuttered and her lips pressed together.
He guessed she was comparing his place with her parents’, a place he had seen from time to time.
And though his parents’ financial circumstances had nothing to do with him, he couldn’t get rid of a sense of shame.
And, even worse, guilt.
Chapter Two
“Who all lives in that fancy house now?” Margaret asked, hanging over the front seat of Noah’s truck.
“Just my mom,” Noah said.
“That’s a big house for one person,” Millie said. “She must rattle around in it. That’s what my mom always says when she sees big houses.”
Shauntelle wanted to reprimand Millie, but it would only draw more attention to her comment. Right about now Shauntelle was having a hard enough time stifling her own reaction to Noah’s place and his presence. She struggled with a mixture of frustrated fury with him and an older, traitorous attraction.
Noah Cosgrove had always been one to make young girls’ hearts beat faster. At one time, so had hers.
But he was older. Then he’d left, and her life moved on.
Now here she was, a widow responsible for two children and full of plans for a future of her own. Roger had been a good man, but it seemed they spent most of their married life chasing after his dreams and plans, to the detriment of their family life and finances.
She learned the hard way that it was up to her to make something of her life. She couldn’t count on anyone else’s help. Now she was determined to make a future for herself and her daughters by way of her restaurant. This would require all her energy and concentration.
Besides, after what happened to Josiah, Noah was so far off her radar he may as well be in another solar system.
Noah pulled the truck up in front of a double garage. “Home sweet home,” he said, but Shauntelle heard a puzzling tone in his voice. Sarcastic almost.
“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, walking to the door.
Millie was about to get out to follow him when Shauntelle caught her by the arm. “Stay here. Mr. Cosgrove just wants to say hello to his mother, and we should let them do that alone.”
“But I want to see the house,” her daughter cried.
“Doesn’t matter. Stay put.”
“I want to see it too,” Margaret added.
“Learn to live with disappointment,” Shauntelle said in a wry tone, though she was talking as much to herself as she was to her daughter.
Part of her would have loved to see the inside of this very impressive home. She was always interested in floor plans and the layout of rooms. Someday she hoped to build her own house, though it would never approach the size of this place.
She looked over the massive expanse of lawn that needed mowing spread out in front of the house, the flower beds that had seen better days and the older hip roof barn beside them. Beyond that were rail fences and pastures all flowing toward the mountains guarding the valley where the house was situated.
It was a showpiece, that was for sure. However, no swing sets stood in the yard, no play center or sandbox. No sign that, at one time, a young boy had lived here. She knew Noah had been an only child, but still.
Her parents’ yard still had the old tractor tire sandbox she and Josiah had played in, as well as the rickety swing set the girls liked to play on.
But nothing here.
A few moments later the door of the house opened, and to Shauntelle’s surprise, Noah and Mrs. Cosgrove came out.
She looked tired and frail. Her once-dark hair hung in a gray bob. The gray-and-pink-striped tunic she wore over leggings seemed to hang on her narrow frame. Shauntelle had seen Mrs. Cosgrove in town from time to time and at church once in a while. Though she couldn’t be more than sixty, she looked far older.
“I told my son I wanted to say hello to you,” Mrs. Cosgrove said, waving at them as they came nearer. “He said he was helping you make deliveries.”
“My mom’s car broke down,” Millie announced, clambering out of the truck before Shauntelle could stop her. And where Millie went, Margaret followed.
They gathered around Mrs. Cosgrove, looking all demure and sweet. It would be rude if she stayed in the truck, so Shauntelle came to join them as well.
Mrs. Cosgrove gave her a gentle smile, holding her hand out to her. “And how are you doing, my dear? You have been through a lot. First your husband and then your brother.”
Shauntelle was surprised Mrs. Cosgrove mentioned Josiah in front of Noah. But she swallowed an unwelcome knot of sorrow and gave her a faint smile.
“It’s been difficult,” she said. “But I have my girls and the community, and I’ve gotten a lot of support from my parents as well.”
“They are good people and I’m so sorry for their loss, and yours as well when your brother died.” Mrs. Cosgrove took her hand in both of hers, looking into her eyes.
Her sympathy was almost Shauntelle’s undoing, but she kept it together. She did not want to cry in front of Noah and his mother.
“My gramma said that Uncle Josiah worked for an evil man,” Millie put in, shattering the mood and moment. “That’s why he died. But Mr. Cosgrove doesn’t look that evil.”
Shauntelle felt like grabbing her dear daughter and covering her mouth, but it was too late.
Again she saw pain and anger flit over Noah’s face. Again she wondered how much he took to heart.
Mrs. Cosgrove looked from Millie to Noah, her own features twisted as she withdrew her hand.
“Sometimes we only know part of the story,” she said. “But I won’t keep you long. I understand you have lots of deliveries to do. I wanted to say hello. I hope to see you tomorrow at the Farmer’s Market. You will have a table there, won’t you?” she asked Shauntelle.
“Yes. I will. If you have anything specific you want me to make, you are more than welcome to put in an order.”
“That’s fine, my dear. Maybe I’ll let Noah pick something out. He’s especially fond of chocolate cake.”
“I’m fond of your chocolate cake,” Noah corrected.
His mother gave him a gentle tick with her fingers. “You never say that in front of another woman,” she said.
“Sorry. Forgot about the female code.” Noah’s smile held a touch of melancholy, and Shauntelle thought it must be difficult for him to see his mother like this. “But you better get back to your easy chair, and we better get going.” Noah motioned with his head to the house.
Mrs. Cosgrove glanced over at Shauntelle. “He makes me sound like I’ve got one foot in the grave. Which is quite a physical feat, considering the graveyard is about ten miles away.”
Shauntelle chuckled at that, but she could see from the puzzlement on Millie’s and Margaret’s faces that she would be in for several questions from them about that phrase.
“You run on now and take care of those meat pies,” Mrs. Cosgrove said, holding her cheek up to Noah for a kiss. “I’ll see you later.”
And before Noah could protest, she turned and walked back to the house.
Noah watched her go, and Shauntelle could see that he was torn.
“We don’t have to do this,” she said. “You can bring me straight to my parents’ place, and then come back sooner.”
He turned to her with a wry smile. “She’d never let me come back until I was done helping you, so we may as well carry on.”
His smile made him look more approachable. And his attitude around his mother generated a rift in her own feelings toward him.
But she shook that off. She couldn’t afford to let herself get soft around him.
She had her children to think of, her business to plan and her parents to comfort and support.
Besides, she heard he was only in Cedar Ridge for his cousin’s wedding, and then he would be gone again. Which worked out well. She didn’t think she could be around him any longer than that.
* * *
“I can’t believe you let that man take you on your deliveries.” Selena Rodriguez’s pinched and lined lips and narrowed eyes made a far more eloquent statement than her clipped sentence.
“I didn’t have much choice, Mom,” Shauntelle said as she loaded the dishwasher. “The ice in the coolers holding the meat pies was already half-melted. By the time the tow truck came, I wouldn’t have felt right about delivering them. And that would have been a waste, and I would have had unhappy customers.” Besides, she’d sensed Noah would not have let it go.
It had made for an extremely uncomfortable situation. Trying to keep her anger at him under control while appreciating what he was doing for her.
She was trying as hard as she could to develop a good reputation, both for her food and her delivery service. She wanted customers to know she was dependable and trustworthy. She hoped building up all this goodwill would keep her in good stead when it came time to open her restaurant.
“You could have called us,” Selena muttered, rinsing out a rag and wiping down the counters.
“I tried, but there was no answer. Dad must have been out pumping gas, and you were probably busy somewhere else. Besides, I didn’t like the idea of making you take time out of your workday to come and rescue me.”
“I would have come for sure if I’d known Noah Cosgrove picking you up was the alternative.” Her mother’s voice broke, and Shauntelle once again struggled with her own variable emotions.
The name Noah Cosgrove always engendered an unhealthy indignation in the Rodriguez household. Noah had been Josiah’s boss, and her brother died while working for him. Josiah had often complained that Noah pushed everyone too hard.
After Josiah’s death, there had been inquiries and phone calls and meetings, and it was as if they relived his death again and again.
Noah was exonerated, but Shauntelle still struggled with forgiveness and anger. Had he not worked her brother so hard, Josiah might still be alive.
“Well, they’re done.”
As for her girls, all was right in their world in spite of the emotions swirling around their heads.
Supper was over and her father sat in the living room reading one of his favorite Thornton Burgess books to the girls. Though she doubted they were that terribly interested in the adventures of Reddy Fox, they were too polite to say any different. And it kept them busy while her mother fussed.
“I’m thankful Dad could take care of the car,” Shauntelle said. He had arranged for a friend to pick it up and bring it to the wrecker. “I should have brought it in to the mechanic when I had the chance. Dad’s been warning me for months to get it fixed.”
Though part of the problem was she hadn’t had time to bring it to the mechanic. Between juggling her part-time job at the bank, baking and gardening for the Farmer’s Market and her work to get the restaurant going, extra time was hard to find. And next week she would be even busier working with the contractor who was finishing the arena.
The restaurant she wanted added had never been in the original plans. She had her own blueprints drawn up at great expense, which meant she would have to work closely in the next few weeks with the contractor to make sure everything meshed.
“You could have bought a new car with that money you got from when Roger passed away.”
“You know I need that money for my restaurant and eventually my own place.” She gave her mother a teasing grin as she put the containers holding leftovers in the refrigerator. “I’m sure you don’t want me and the girls staying here forever. Kind of cramps Dad’s and your style.”
“You know we enjoy having you around,” her mother said with a gentle smile. “If you’d had a new car you wouldn’t have had to get a ride with...Noah Cosgrove,” her mother added.
The evil man.
Millie’s words still made Shauntelle squirm. She would have to make a note to discuss with her mother how she talked about Noah. The girls didn’t need to get pulled into the drama and emotions surrounding her brother’s death.
“It was okay, Mother,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. She knew she would run into Noah sooner or later, so maybe it was just as well she got it over and done with.
Though she was still surprised at how difficult it had been to be around him. She couldn’t keep the image of her brother’s coffin out of her mind. The searing pain of lowering her brother down into the ground. The loss of her own dreams and plans.