Catching the Cowboy: A Small-Town Clean Romance (Summer Creek Book 1)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Emery wondered what she could find for Easter gifts in Summer Creek. She’d have to look when she went into town on Monday. And she’d promised Nell she’d help color Easter eggs, something she’d never done, at least that she could recall. Apparently, for the last ten years, Nell was the one who boiled and dyed all the eggs for the annual egg hunt in the park.

  Cricket offered her assistance in cleaning up their lunch dishes. Emery put another load of dusty bedding from the bunkhouse in the washer, then they returned to the job of cleaning.

  By mid-afternoon, Cricket curled up on the couch in the bunkhouse and fell asleep while Emery sat in a chair to thumb through an old photo album she’d found at the bottom of a stack of books.

  The pages threatened to crumble from age and the photos were bracketed by little pasteboard corners that had once been glued inside the book. The images were beautiful antiques. Judging by the clothes and hairstyles, she figured some had to have been taken in the late 1800s. Emery assumed the people in the photographs were related to the Cole family. She could see resemblances to Hud and Cricket in the faces of the people. Her finger trailed over the image of a man who appeared to be similar in build to Hud. Although he wasn’t quite as handsome, he had the same dimple in his chin and chiseled jawline. A handwritten description listed him as C. Cole. She wondered if the man was Hud’s great-great-grandfather. If so, she at least knew where Hud got his size and his good looks.

  A loose color photograph was tucked between the last two pages of the photo album. Written on the back of it were the names Mike and Jacqui Cole, and a date that meant the photo was taken thirty years ago. The man looked enough like Hud that she assumed it had to be his father. Emery could see the woman’s smile in Jossy’s face. The couple must be Hud’s parents, but no one ever mentioned them or talked about them.

  Emery jumped when she felt something warm bump against her legs. She glanced down at the two ranch dogs as they sat at her feet, begging for attention. Although they’d frightened her when she’d first arrived at the ranch, she’d quickly learned the dogs were harmless and full of energy.

  “Wrigley, what are you and Gizmo doing?” she asked, setting aside the photo album and reaching down to pet both dogs. They squirmed and whined, vying for a better position as she scratched along their backs and then their bellies.

  Cricket awakened and slid onto the floor, rolling around with the dogs, giggling each time one of them licked her face.

  “Let’s head back to the house,” Emery finally said, taking Cricket’s hand and shooing the dogs outside, then closing the door to the bunkhouse behind her. Cricket talked her into going to see the new foals. From there, they had to check on the calves racing across the pasture, and then look in on the piglets and newly-hatched chicks.

  Everywhere Emery looked there were babies. For the first time in her life, she felt a longing for a baby of her own, especially with Cricket holding her hand and smiling at her like she could magically produce rainbows and unicorns.

  Hours later, Emery sat in the living room with the box of photographs she’d found in the bunkhouse, thumbing through them. Nell had gone to bed early, tired after her shopping trip, while Hud tucked in Cricket for the night.

  Emery studied a handful of images she was certain had to be Hud’s parents. There were photos of them wearing graduation robes, and riding horses together, holding hands as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. From what she could see, the couple had been deeply in love.

  “What have you got there?” Hud asked as he sank onto the chair he seemed to prefer when he had a minute or two to relax. He set the glass of iced tea he held in his hand on a side table and leaned over, looking into the box. A frown creased his brow. “Where did you find that?”

  “In the bunkhouse when Cricket and I were cleaning today. Is this a photo of your parents?” She held up a colorful snapshot of a young couple, joyously laughing.

  Hud nodded, taking the image from her and holding it in his big hand with great care. “That’s my mom and dad.”

  “What happened to them?” Emery wasn’t trying to be nosy, but from the look of agony on Hud’s face, she wished she hadn’t broached what appeared to be a painful subject.

  “They died when I was three. Jossy had just turned five. We lived in town then. Mom was a schoolteacher, and Dad worked here on the ranch. I don’t remember much about them, but sometimes I’ll smell something, a soft floral fragrance, and it makes me think of a woman with a sweet voice and kind eyes. I know it was my mom. And I think of my dad anytime I look in the mirror.” Hud sighed and took the other photographs she held.

  Unhurriedly, he looked through them then set them back inside the box on Emery’s lap. “My parents had gone into Burns to run errands while Jossy and I stayed here at the ranch. They were on their way home and were hit by a train as they crossed the railroad tracks. It was a place they’d driven over hundreds of times, but the crossing signal and gate malfunctioned. Normally, lights would flash, and the gate would come down, indicating a train. That day, there was nothing to warn them a train was coming, and it crashed right into them. My grandparents said they were killed instantly. Jossy and I grew up with Grammy and Grandpa as our parents. To this day, I avoid crossing railroad tracks unless it is absolutely necessary.”

  “Oh, Hud. I had no idea. You were so little, both of you, to endure such a tragic loss.”

  “We were, and it was hard, but we survived. I don’t know what we would have done without our grandparents.”

  “Then you lost your grandfather,” Emery spoke aloud, regretting it when Hud swallowed hard.

  Absently, he nodded. “He died when I was a senior in college. One moment he was riding the fence, the next he fell out of his saddle. He had what the doctor called an aortic rupture. Basically, his aorta had an aneurysm that caused massive internal bleeding. Grandpa died on the way to the hospital.”

  Emery reached out and settled her hand on Hud’s arm, giving it a gentle pat. “I’m so sorry for your losses, Hud. From what you’ve shared, your grandfather was a very important person in your life, and losing him must have been utterly devastating.”

  “It was. I still miss him. Grandpa was the greatest man I’ve ever known. He taught me everything I know about ranching and life. All I can do is aspire to be half the man he was.” Hud grew uncharacteristically quiet, even for him.

  Emery longed to share condolences or encouragement with Hud, but she had no idea what to say. Words seemed so inadequate when he’d lost so much. First his parents and then his beloved grandfather. She couldn’t even begin to fathom what he’d endured, especially with the death of his wife, too.

  Uncertain what he’d do, but needing to provide a bit of comfort to a man she’d come to care for a great deal, one she admired more than most, she rose from her chair. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his burly shoulders, gave him a hug, and offered a silent prayer that he would know peace in spite of his many losses.

  At first he stiffened, but then she felt him relax as he released a sigh. His left hand came up and rested on hers where she’d pressed them over his heart.

  “Truly, I’m sorry for all you’ve lost, Hud.” On the verge of tears, she kissed his cheek, then hurried out of the room and rushed upstairs, wondering when she’d started falling in love with the cowboy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emery hefted another heavy box from a deep wooden shelf onto a table. Puffs of dust floated into the air, making her sneeze. She dabbed her nose with a tissue from her pocket, then used a rag to wipe the powdery residue from the lid of the box before lifting it and peering inside.

  Photographs and old newspaper clippings filled the box, just like the previous boxes she’d sorted through this week.

  When the mayor suggested she might enjoy working in the library and organizing files, Emery figured she’d be bored to death. Much to her surprise, she found she liked bringing order to the chaos in City Hall.

  She spent several days properly
shelving books and cleaning the library. Quickly finishing that chore, the mayor encouraged her to begin sorting through dozens of boxes that had been in storage in the basement for so many years, no one knew what history had been preserved inside them.

  Most of the photographs were labeled with last names, so Emery sorted them by family. The same for the newspaper articles. She had more than three dozen piles arranged in alphabetical order on a long table.

  The battered old box in front of her promised another interesting hour or two of reading. She pulled out a folded newspaper and carefully smoothed the creases. Her eyes widened as she stared at a front-page photo of her uncle and father as young men, standing with a boy on crutches. A boy who looked oddly familiar.

  “‘Henry and James Brighton joined in the search for Michael Cole when the lad disappeared in the woods Saturday afternoon.’” Emery read the account aloud since no one else was in the basement. “‘The Brighton brothers are in Summer Creek on a fishing trip, but gladly gave up their leisure time to assist in the rescue of Michael. Henry reported finding Michael huddled against the base of a tree approximately two miles from the creek, near the Princeton place. The horse Michael was riding to round up stray cows in the hills spooked and tossed him off, breaking his left leg and leaving him unable to make his way back to Summer Creek Ranch. The two young men refused the reward offered by the family, saying they were pleased to help bring the child safely home.’”

  Suddenly, the reason her father and uncle knew Nell Cole became crystal clear. The boy they’d rescued was Hud’s father. It was no wonder they’d formed a close friendship with the Cole family, even if she hadn’t known about it until they’d brought her to Summer Creek.

  Eager to show the article to Hud, she tucked the newspaper into her bag, glanced at the clock on the wall, and quickly cleaned up her work area. It was time to head home, and she’d promised Nell she’d run by the grocery store to pick up more food coloring. Yesterday afternoon, when she’d returned to the ranch, she’d helped Nell and Cricket color dozens of boiled eggs.

  Today, they would finish another twenty dozen, all in preparation for the Easter egg hunt planned in the park tomorrow morning.

  Emery looked down at her hands, stained shades of pink and blue, and smiled. Coloring eggs with Cricket had been such fun, she didn’t even mind the smell of boiled eggs and vinegar that seemed to permeate every corner of the house.

  Nell had given Emery and Cricket the job of choosing a dozen eggs to decorate with glitter and stickers, which would be the eggs that earned special prizes if found.

  Emery turned off the laptop where she had been adding notes about each box and its contents, marveling at the notion that she had internet access and didn’t even care. She only checked her email once a week, when she sent her uncle and probation officer her weekly report. The rest of her social media accounts no longer held any interest for her. Not when people had been so petty and cruel about her incident with Officer Tipton and his horse. She’d read enough scathing comments the one time she’d looked at the horrid video to know she didn’t need to read more. Although her reputation seemed to be in tatters, it no longer mattered.

  Her family still loved her. The people in Summer Creek, for the most part, welcomed her into the community and made her feel like she belonged. And that was enough for her.

  Emery turned off the lights, shut the door, and rushed up the steps. At least in Summer Creek, no one judged her appearance. In fact, wearing jeans and sneakers to work seemed perfectly normal to her now.

  She could picture the look of horror on her mother’s face if she saw her, but Lisa Brighton was hundreds of miles away, after extending her vacation in Georgia. Emery knew her mother had an aunt and a handful of cousins there, whom she rarely mentioned, along with several close friends. She wondered if her mother ever wished she could move back to Georgia.

  Truthfully, she’d never given much thought to her parents as people with dreams and wishes. Yet, she was starting to see them as much more than just her parents. She missed them both, especially her father. Even though he was frequently busy or gone with his business enterprises, he’d always made time for her, made her feel loved and cherished.

  Someday, when she had children of her own, she hoped the man she married would make them feel just as special and adored.

  An image of Hud with Cricket on his lap as he read her a story made an ache pierce Emery’s heart. One evening, she’d caught him reading to his daughter, glasses perched on his nose as he cuddled his daughter in her little pink and white bed. Until that moment, she had no idea he even wore glasses. According to Nell, they were just for reading, but as good as they looked on Hud, she couldn’t help but wish he’d wear them more often.

  Distracted by thoughts of the cowboy, she almost ran into Georgia Prescott, the city clerk and part-time fill-in librarian, as they both reached the main door at the same time.

  “Heading home?” Georgia asked as she shuffled her purse from one hand to the other.

  Emery motioned for the woman to precede her outside while she got her bicycle from where she’d left it behind the stairs. “Yes. I need to run by the store for Nell, then I’ll be on my way.”

  Georgia held up a bank bag and pointed in the direction of the bank located over one street and down a few blocks. “I need to drop this deposit off, then I’m going home, too. Will you be at the park tomorrow?”

  Emery nodded. “Definitely. I have to cheer on Cricket as she hunts for eggs. She’s determined she’s going to win one of the prizes.”

  “She most likely will, then. That child is a go-getter, just like the rest of the Cole family.” Georgia smiled. “Have a nice weekend, Emery.”

  “You as well, Mrs. Prescott. Happy Easter.”

  “And to you, dear.” The woman checked to make sure the door to City Hall was locked, then strode around back to where she’d parked her car.

  Emery pushed the bike down the steps, set the bag she carried into a basket Hud had attached to the handlebars, and slid onto the seat. When he’d given her the bike, she’d wanted to turn up her nose at it, but somehow refrained. It had flecks of blue paint on it, indicating the color it might have once been.

  Mostly it was covered in dents, a little rust, and metal that had been scraped bare from what she assumed were multiple wrecks, probably caused by Hud and the daredevil tendencies of his youth. Nell had shared enough stories about him that Emery had a good picture of Hud in his younger years — a carefree, popular young man full of charm and fun.

  The losses he’d suffered had taken their toll on him, though. For the most part, he seemed serious, quiet, almost withdrawn. Then he’d laugh at something Jossy said, or smile at Cricket, and Emery would see glimpses of the young man he’d once been. The man she longed to know.

  Mindful she didn’t have time for dwelling on the past or dreaming about the future, she hopped on the bicycle and pedaled down the street to the grocery store.

  A big sign out front proclaimed it as Neil’s Grocery, but when she asked who Neil was, Mayor Kane informed her Neil Nelson was the man who founded the first grocery store in town more than a hundred years ago. His cousin, who shared the same last name, opened a store on the other side of town two days later and tried to steal all his customers. Nelson’s went out of business within a few months, but Neil’s had survived and thrived. His great-great-grandson, Rick Nelson, and his wife, Heidi, now operated the grocery store.

  Emery had met the couple’s three teenage children who worked there after school and on weekends, when they weren’t involved with other activities. They were polite kids who seemed to know how to hustle and work hard.

  Much harder than Emery had known how to work at their age, even her current age if she cared to admit it.

  She left her bicycle leaning against the front of the store, scowled at Ethel as the goat wandered over to sniff it, then hurried inside. It didn’t take long to find the food coloring. In fact, she snagged the last box off the
shelf. On her way to the checkout area, she walked past the deli where everything from potato salad and fried chicken tenders to lunch meat and homemade ice cream were sold. The thought of an ice cream cone created a craving in Emery she couldn’t resist. Not when they had salted caramel ice cream with fudge ribbons as one of the options.

  “One cone, please,” Emery said, anticipating the first lick of her treat.

  She paid for the cone and the food coloring, dropped the little box of food coloring bottles into her bag, and got back on her bicycle.

  Ethel rubbed against her leg, like she planned to start chewing on her jeans.

  “Don’t even think about it, ol’ girl,” Emery warned the goat, then pushed with her feet to start the bicycle rolling forward.

  In the week she’d been riding the bicycle to town, she’d gotten proficient at steering it, even with one hand when necessary. Once she had the bicycle heading on the road out of town, she licked the ice cream that threatened to run down her hand.

  “So good,” she murmured to herself as she pedaled toward the ranch. If she kept a good pace, she could make it in fifteen minutes. If she dawdled, it took her closer to thirty. Either way, the bicycle gave her a feeling of independence, even if she didn’t enjoy the dust that sometimes covered her. The road was paved, but it held a lot of grit, especially if someone drove too close to the ditches that lined both sides of it.

  With a glance behind her to make sure no one was coming, Emery guided the bike into the road where she could ride on the pavement instead of over the packed dirt on the edge. She’d just taken another big lick of her ice cream cone when a car zoomed behind her, honked twice, then whipped around her. The moment it passed her, it hit a big dirt clod that a truck had no doubt left behind. The clod exploded, showering Emery with bits of dirt and grass.

  “City drivers!” she yelled after the car, then gawked at the familiar appearance of it. When it turned onto the Summer Creek Ranch lane, she grew excited.