Читать книгу Courting The Cowboy - Carolyne Aarsen - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Here she was again. Facing another blank piece of paper and no inspiration.

Ella wanted to scream her frustration. Especially because she even went to church yesterday hoping for something. Some peace or inspiration that would allow the thoughts and ideas to flow.

And again, nothing.

Then, as if her life was one endless round of déjà vu, once again she heard Suzy’s and Paul’s voices near the house. They were chattering away about something. Clearly excited.

Once again Pablo got up and ran to the door.

On the one hand, Ella fought down her own frustration, but at the same time part of her welcomed the intrusion. Clearly she wasn’t getting any work done anyway. And somehow the thought of seeing them didn’t bother her as much as it initially had.

She turned in her chair, and saw Pablo still sitting by the door, looking expectantly outside.

Then she heard faint whispering, and curious to know what was going on, she got up.

The kids stood with their backs to her house and it looked like Paul was holding something in his arms.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Paul said. His shirt was covered in straw and his shorts looked stained and dirty. “Dad said we shouldn’t come.”

“But I think Miss Ella would like to meet Oreo.” Suzy was bent over whatever Paul held in his arms, her own hair sprinkled with flecks of straw. Today the little girl wore plaid shorts and a black T-shirt tattered at the hem. Her hair was a snarled mess. What had the two of them been doing and who—or what—was Oreo?

Pablo stood now, looking intently at the kids, definitely interested in whatever the kids held in their hands. Just to be safe, Ella grabbed him by the collar as she opened the door.

“Maybe we should go back to our house,” Paul whispered.

But then Suzy saw Ella.

“Hi, Miss Ella. Look what we got from our Grammie and Grampie for our birthdays.” She grabbed Paul and spun him around.

An adorable black-and-white kitten lay cradled in Paul’s arms.

Pablo seemed far too interested in the animal, and not in a good “let’s be friends” way, but a “you look like a tasty meal” way.

Unfortunately Paul took her dog’s attention as friendliness. “Hey, Pablo, look what we have,” he said, showing the dog the kitten. “A new friend.”

“Don’t. Please,” Ella warned, her eyes shifting from the rising hair on the back of Pablo’s neck. “I don’t think Pablo likes your kitten.”

“Everyone loves kittens,” Suzy said, and before Ella could stop her, the little girl pushed Paul—and the kitten—closer to Pablo.

Pablo lunged and Ella tried her best to hold him back. Then, to her horror, the kitten, sensing the potential threat, clawed its way out of Paul’s arms and ran into the house, its tiny claws scrabbling across the linoleum.

Pablo spun around and Ella clung to him tightly.

“Paul, please go get that kitten,” she called out.

Paul stood, staring as Ella wrestled with her dog.

“Pablo. Sit,” she ordered in a firm, decisive voice.

Pablo hesitated but did as he was told. Hours of training with the dog had finally paid off. Nevertheless, Ella decided to play it safe and kept her hand on his collar.

“Paul, did you see where the kitten went?”

Paul silently shook his head, still looking at Pablo as if unsure what to do.

“I know where Oreo went,” Suzy announced and marched into the house, patting Pablo’s head as she passed him.

Pablo licked her hand and Ella relaxed. A bit.

“I think he ran into the living room,” Suzy said, disappearing around the corner.

Then Pablo twisted back to the doorway again, almost wrenching Ella’s arm loose. Now what?

Boyce Walsh was limping toward the house, head down, looking as if every step was an effort in his rush to get to the cabin.

He looked up and saw Ella, then waved with one hand. “Hey, Ella.”

Then he stopped, one hand on his chest, looking horribly out of breath. Ella, still holding Pablo, wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hey, Paul, you should go back to the house. Where’s Suzy?” he wheezed, one hand on the railing of the cabin’s porch.

“Are you okay?” Ella asked, concerned. The man sounded like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Yeah. Just short of breath. Woke up and the kidlets were gone.”

Ella glanced back at Paul who was now stroking Pablo’s head, then back at Boyce. “Is Ollie sleeping?”

Boyce shook his head. “He’s not here. He’s staying at his grandparents’. The other grandparents,” he gasped.

Why did that make her feel relieved?

Then Suzy showed up beside her, oblivious to the low growls Pablo was making. “I’m here, Grandpa. I was just getting Oreo.”

“You kids need to get back to the house. Now,” he said, but Boyce’s breathlessness took away the force of his words. “Your dad is on his way home and he won’t like it that you’re here bothering Miss Ella.”

Ella could see Suzy was having difficulty holding Oreo. A slow growl built in Pablo’s throat.

Suzy was struggling with the now frightened cat. “Oreo, stop scratching,” she called out, tears welling in her eyes.

Ella made a snap decision. “Stay here,” she said, then dragged her dog back to his kennel in the corner of the dining room, reprimanding him on the way.

He settled in the kennel as she closed and locked the door.

Then she returned to the front porch, where Suzy was crying now. Ella gently took the cat from the little girl. Thankfully Oreo curled up against her, settling down right away...

“Why don’t we all go back to the house,” she said, glancing over at Boyce who was still struggling to catch his breath.

“Good idea,” Boyce said as he stood. “Where’s your dog?”

“Inside. In his kennel. I don’t trust him around the kitten.”

Boyce shook his head. “Figures that their grandparents would give them a cat without talking about it to Cord first.”

Ella decided it might be best not to pursue that conversation. Suzy was still upset and she needed a distraction.

“So how old is Oreo?” she asked Suzy as they walked toward the trees.

“Three months old,” Suzy answered. Then she reached up and grabbed Ella’s hand.

Ella’s initial reaction was to pull back, but at the same time, the feel of the sticky fingers woven through hers awoke the same maternal feelings she had when she had first found out she was pregnant.

She choked down an unwelcome thrum of sorrow.

“And does she like it at your place?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going and keep her mind from going back down the rabbit hole of regret and guilt.

“We just got him yesterday,” Paul chimed in, dancing ahead of them down the path that wound through the trees. It was cooler there amongst the spruce and aspen, and the whisper of the wind in the leaves was soothing. “Grammy and Grampie gave him to us for our birthdays.”

Ella could hear Boyce muttering as he followed them, and in spite of her own tangled emotions, she had to suppress a smile. Clearly he did not approve of the cat. As they walked through the trees she felt a quiet peace enfold her. To one side she saw a bench tucked into an opening, a small respite. She wondered who had put it there and why.

They broke out into the open and Ella gasped. This was the first time she’d seen the house and the ranch. It was hidden from sight by the trees between the two yards.

The house was built in a Craftsman style with heavy trim and large frames around the windows. The porch wrapped around the house, and Ella guessed that the other side had a perfect view of the valley and the mountains beyond.

A ways below the house she could see a barn tucked into a hillside and a herd of cows gathered in an enclosure beyond that. On the other side was a smaller pasture, with a half a dozen horses grazing there.

Past the sweep of a green valley dotted with trees rose the mountains, gray and craggy and iced with snow, a stark white against the blue sky. Though she had a view of the mountains from her cottage as well, it was only a partial glimpse, not this sweeping vista.

“Pretty, aint it?” Boyce said, still winded as he came to stand beside her.

“‘Pretty’ hardly describes it,” Ella said, giving him a cautious smile.

“My wife and I built it many years ago and Lisa renovated it. Lots of memories here.”

He moved ahead of them and Ella followed, still holding Suzy’s hand as they made their way down the slope toward the house.

The front door was flanked with flower pots that had remnants of dead plants hanging limply from them. The flower beds flanking the front door looked equally unkempt. It was sad to see such a beautiful place look so uncared for.

Boyce held the door open for her and she stepped inside, still carrying the cat.

“Just bring that creature indoors,” Boyce said, making a space in the entryway strewn with boots and shoes. “She has a crate there you can put him.”

Ella hesitated but Suzy tugged on her hand. “I can show you the toys we got for him,” she said.

Ella reluctantly followed, and when she stepped into the kitchen she felt a clench of dismay.

Dirty dishes and pots covered the quartz counter. The countertop stove was encrusted with old food and the sink held a few more pots. Pictures hanging askew decorated the stainless steel refrigerator, as did innumerable finger marks and streaks of unknown substances.

Beyond the kitchen a basket piled with laundry sat on the dining room table, clothes spilling out of it onto papers and books and more dishes.

A metal kennel sat in one corner and Suzy crouched down to open it up. “We can put Oreo in here,” she said, reaching up.

Ella relinquished the cat, trying not to grimace at the sight of the family room through the arched doorway of the kitchen. A television was blaring, and toys of all shapes and sizes joined more clothes scattered on the beautiful fawn-colored leather couch and love seat. A fireplace filled one wall, flanked by white columns and bridged by a mantel that held dusty candles next to a framed picture of Cord’s family.

She could see the picture was a candid shot taken outside. Sunlight illuminated Cord and his wife and children.

Cord stood with Suzy perched on his hip, her arms wrapped around his shoulder as she leaned away from him, the sun making a halo of her hair. Cord had his other arm draped around the shoulders of a stunningly beautiful woman with wavy blond hair. She in turn had her hand on Paul’s shoulder, her other hand cupped around her pregnant stomach.

Ella turned away, frustrated that the picture so easily evoked memories. Was she ever going to put the past behind her?

Boyce looked at her and frowned as if he had caught the vulnerability she had allowed to slip over her features.

She lifted her chin, determined to push past it all. “I should get back to the cabin and back to work.”

“Thanks for helping with the kids,” Boyce said, his smile warm and friendly. “And I should get going on supper.” Then he groaned, pressing his hand against his lower back.

He looked tired. It couldn’t be easy for him supervising young, active kids at his age. And having to cook.

“What are you making?”

“Cord pulled out some meat. Not sure what to do with it, though.” He shifted some of the dishes around to make room on the stove, looking confused.

“I’m hungry, Grandpa,” Paul complained.

“Me too,” Suzy added. “My tummy hurts.”

“I know. Just give me a bit and I’ll have supper ready.” Boyce gave her an apologetic look. As Ella watched his aimless meanderings, she felt a flash of sympathy for the man.

“Maybe I can help?” she said.

Boyce shot her a look full of gratitude. “That would be great. This is what Cord took out.” Boyce held up a plate of chicken breasts.

“Chicken is pretty basic. Let’s see what we can do with it.”

She dug through the disorganized shelves of the pantry, and found a bottle of Indian butter chicken sauce. Boyce found an onion, and a few minutes later she was sautéing chicken and cooking rice.

As she worked, Ella was surprised at how easy it seemed, working in this kitchen. With these kids.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt an easing of the band of anguish that usually gripped her heart.

* * *

Cord strode up the front walk of the house and grinned when he smelled the mouthwatering scent of butter sauce wafting out the open kitchen windows.

Before he’d left for his meeting, Boyce had offered to make supper, telling him that he could easily manage. Cord was puzzled by the offer but thankful. He hated cooking and the kids usually hated what he made.

He had hoped his father was able to work around the mess in the kitchen. A combination of his own attempts to cook and Boyce’s easygoing work ethic.

He knew he needed to clean up and it had been bugging him for the past few days, but he was swamped with work. Thankfully his in-laws were willing to take Oliver for most of the spring break and with Boyce around, he and the kids could just about manage until school started again. It was strictly stopgap, but it gave him some breathing space until he found a nanny.

He stepped inside the entrance, frustrated at the kids’ shoes tossed around on the floor and the dirt caked on the tiles beneath them. Lisa would have pitched a fit at the sight. Renovating this house had been a project she’d started since they were first married and moved in. He couldn’t begin to count how many hours, days and weeks she spent on Pinterest and consulting with the contractors to bring her vision to life.