Her Kind of Cowboy

by Charlotte Douglas

  Ethan thought for a moment. “What if the man wasn’t a soldier? Or from WWII? What if he was a vagrant, dressed in army surplus?”

  “It’s not out of the question,” Lucas said. “There have been lots of military surplus stores around since World War II that sell vintage uniforms.”

  “He could have been working on the barn roof,” Ethan speculated. “Looks as if it hasn’t been repaired in decades. Maybe he slipped, fell and hit the back of his head, killing him.”

  “Then why wasn’t it reported?” Caroline asked. “And why was he buried in the compost pile? Eileen was one of the most decent women I’ve ever known. If she was aware of the death, she’d never have condoned burying the man without proper respect, even if he’d been a vagrant.”

  Lucas took off his uniform hat and scratched his head. “We ran the list of former tenants against every missing persons data bank available. No matches.”

  “What about matching DNA?” Caroline asked.

  “If the body is World War II era—and the coroner believes it’s been buried that long—the DNA’s not in any data bank,” Lucas said.

  “Dental records?” Ethan asked.

  “Same problem,” Lucas admitted.

  “So we may never know who he was,” Caroline said.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Lucas said. “Have you gone through all of Eileen’s records?”

  Caroline shook her head. “We’ve been getting the room ready for Hannah’s arrival tomorrow.”

  “Daniel’s sister?” Lucas said.

  Caroline nodded.

  Ethan still hadn’t become accustomed to how everyone always knew everything about everyone else’s business in the valley. The whole town apparently was aware of Hannah’s impending arrival and her relationship to Daniel at Archer Farm.

  “So you’re going to have your hands full,” Lucas said to Caroline with a sympathetic look.

  “Afraid so,” Caroline replied. “But not too busy to help you out. Eileen has volumes of diaries, going back to her arrival at Blackberry Farm as a bride. I’ll start reading through them after Hannah’s in bed at night. If they give any clues to who was buried at Orchard Cottage, I’ll let you know.”

  Lucas nodded. “I’d appreciate it. Whoever it is may have family somewhere, still wondering where he is and what happened to him. It’d be good to give them some peace of mind.”

  “I’ll see what I can find,” Caroline said. “Thanks for coming all this way to fill us in.”

  “No problem. I was patrolling Valley Road anyway.”

  “Want a cup of coffee and a piece of pie?” Ethan asked. “We were just about to have dessert.”

  Lucas glanced at the table set for two, then back to Ethan with the look of a conspirator. “Thanks, but I should get on the road.”

  He donned his hat and headed back to his car.

  “How about you?” Ethan asked Caroline. “Want dessert? One of Eileen’s cobblers from the freezer is in the oven. It should be done about now.”

  Her smile seemed too bright, almost forced. “As long as there’s ice cream to go with it. Want some help?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  Whatever illusion of romance Ethan had managed to create earlier, Lucas’s visit had shattered. Nothing like talk of dead bodies to spoil a mood.

  But there would be other nights, Ethan assured himself. And if he could conquer his nightmares and enlist Hannah as an ally, maybe the two of them could persuade Caroline to forget her Wild West fantasy and stay in the valley.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Caroline paced the front porch and watched the road for signs of a car. Gofer and a worker from social services would be arriving soon with Hannah. The little girl’s room was completed, Caroline had stocked the kitchen with foods she hoped the child would like, including a supply of SpaghettiOs and Cheerios—and everything was ready.

  Except Caroline.

  When it came to caring for children, she was flying by the seat of her pants. With no siblings and too many years since she’d been a child, she felt woefully unprepared to relate to a nine-year-old. She didn’t know the latest toys, the most popular kids’ television shows or little girls’ fashions. She’d read the Harry Potter books, but envisioned only a handful of conversations about wizards and Muggles before running out of conversation topics.

  Most of all, she worried about Hannah. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the girl had suffered, living with an alcoholic mother, then orphaned so young. How could she heal the holes in Hannah’s heart? And what right did she have to try when she’d be handing the girl over to another family as soon as possible?

  She should have spent last night searching the Internet for information on child-rearing. But her fizzled dinner conversation with Ethan had left her too unsettled and restless to confront the issue. After he’d left, to drive his image from her mind, she’d sat for hours at the computer in Eileen’s living room, ordering books on horses and cattle ranching and researching real estate Web sites in western states.

  In a flash of luck, she’d discovered a listing for forty-two acres outside Taos, New Mexico. At $175,000, the property—with a dilapidated barn and a small adobe house in worse shape than the barn but with panoramic mountain views—was just what she was looking for. The sale of Eileen’s property should bring Caroline enough to buy the property in the Land of Enchantment and leave enough for repairs on the house and barn, as well as money for livestock, including a good saddle horse. As soon as she had Hannah settled, she would approach the bank for a loan, using Blackberry Farm as collateral, and make an offer on the Taos ranch. With Hannah and Ethan pushed from her mind, Caroline had gone to bed and dreamed of New Mexico.

  The purring of an engine brought her back to the present, but the sound didn’t originate on the highway. Ethan’s pickup was coming down the dirt road from Orchard Cottage. Maybe he was headed into town to the builders’ supply or hardware store.

  He’d seemed strangely subdued once Lucas had left last night. After they’d finished dessert, he’d insisted on doing the dishes alone, then had left with barely a word. She hadn’t known whether she’d been relieved or disappointed. A part of her had longed for another kiss, but her practical side had insisted that involvement with Ethan was a waste of time, since, once she left the valley, she’d probably never see or hear from him again. And emotional ties to any man, even one as attractive as Ethan, didn’t fit into her plans.

  Her practical nature, however, couldn’t stop the flicker in her pulse when, instead of continuing toward the highway, Ethan parked in front of the farmhouse. When he climbed out of the cab and strolled toward her up the walk, he was a different person from the morose, brooding man who’d left the night before. His smile, as wide and bright as a summer sunrise, kicked up the speed of her heartbeat.

  “Thought you might like some moral support with your new arrival,” he said when he reached the porch. He smelled of soap and clothes fresh from the line. “If the conversation lags between you and Hannah, we can always talk to each other.”

  The more she tried to resist him, the better he was at being irresistible, as well as coming up with ways to make her feel good.

  “What are you,” she said, “a mind reader?”

  He shrugged. “I thought how I’d feel with an unfamiliar child on my hands.”

  “If you’re the cavalry, you arrived just in time.” Her stomach clenched with nervousness as a dark, official-looking
sedan drove up the drive from the highway and pulled in next to Ethan’s truck.

  A middle-aged woman with nondescript features and brown hair and dressed in a navy blue pants suit stepped out from behind the wheel. Gofer exited the passenger door. After a wave to Caroline, he opened the rear door, and a tiny girl scooted off the rear seat and onto the drive.

  Caroline had steeled herself to remain emotionally detached from Hannah, but one look at the little waif shattered her original intentions. Too small for her age and with pathetically thin arms and legs, Hannah was dressed in threadbare shorts, a faded T-shirt and tattered sneakers. And the child had the worst haircut Caroline had ever seen. The red curls from her photograph had been cropped close to her head in uneven clumps, as if sawed with dull scissors. Looking like a refugee, Hannah glanced at her surroundings, but her wide, blue eyes held a haunted expression, as if she expected the worst from life and had never been disappointed.

  “Look at those eyes,” Ethan whispered. “That’s an old soul if I ever saw one.”

  Drawn to Hannah in a way she’d never anticipated, Caroline hurried down the walk toward the child. She knelt and held out her arms. “I’m Caroline Tuttle. Welcome to Blackberry Farm.”

  The little girl approached but stopped a few feet away and ignored Caroline’s outstretched arms.

  “It’s very pretty,” she said in a voice that sounded grown-up, despite its childish timbre. “Daniel said it would be.”

  Hannah’s words were complimentary but had lacked emotion, as if the child was numb to the world. Caroline dropped her arms to her sides. Hannah apparently didn’t want to be touched.

  “I’m glad you like it.” The little girl’s shell-shocked demeanor made Caroline want to cry. She blinked away tears. “I hope you’ll like your room, too. We fixed it up special for you.”

  “You did?” Hannah seemed surprised, as if no one had ever done something just for her.

  Ethan joined them on the walk, but Gofer and the social worker hung back, as if to allow Hannah the opportunity to meet Caroline and adjust to her new surroundings.

  “This is Ethan,” Caroline said to the girl. “He lives up the road, and he gave your room a new coat of paint.”

  “Yellow,” Ethan said. “Daniel told us it’s your favorite color.”

  Hannah nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is. Thank you.”

  The child’s manners were impeccable, and Daniel’s reputation for politeness was well-known throughout the valley. Somehow, despite alcoholism and single-parent status, Hannah’s mother had instilled social graces in both her children.

  Behind Hannah, the social worker shifted from one low-heeled pump to the other, a visible sign of her impatience to finish her paperwork and be gone.

  “Why don’t you let Ethan show you around?” Caroline said to Hannah.

  Ethan held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation and an encouraging nod from Caroline, Hannah placed her small hand in his and walked beside him toward the backyard and the barn.

  “Do you have any animals here?” Caroline heard Hannah ask.

  “Not anymore,” Ethan told her. “There used to be cows and chickens.”

  Hannah sighed so heavily, Caroline could hear, even at a distance. “I wish there were horses. I really like horses.”

  Caroline smiled. She and Hannah had something in common after all.

  The pair disappeared around the side of the house, and Gofer spoke at Caroline’s elbow. “What do you think?”

  “She breaks my heart.”

  Gofer introduced the social worker. “This is Catherine Benson.”

  All business, Ms. Benson pulled a sheaf of papers from her briefcase. “I’ll need your signature on these.”

  “We can use the table on the porch.” Caroline led them up the walk and onto the porch, where Ms. Benson spread papers on the wicker table and handed Caroline a pen. “Sign where I’ve marked with a yellow highlighter, please.”

  Feeling as if she were jumping off a cliff, Caroline skimmed the contents, then placed her signature on the designated lines and returned the papers to the social worker.

  “Is that all?” Caroline asked.

  “For now.” Ms. Benson stuffed the papers into her briefcase. “I’ll stop by in a week or two to see how Hannah is settling in.”

  With a nod, she turned, descended the stairs, and headed for her car.

  “Call me if you need me,” Gofer said. “I’ll bring Daniel over tomorrow to see his sister.”

  He turned to leave, but Caroline stopped him. “Have you had any luck finding another foster family?”

  Gofer raised his eyebrows. “You’ve seen Hannah, and you still don’t want to keep her?”

  “She needs a real family, one with a mother and father and stability, not me.”

  Gofer cocked his head and fixed her with a stare. “You might be surprised to find that you’re exactly what Hannah needs.”

  “You’ve talked to her,” Caroline protested. “The child is far too old for her years. She doesn’t laugh or smile. I haven’t the vaguest idea how to fix that.”

  “Just love her.”

  “But—”

  Ms. Benson’s impatient honking of the car’s horn interrupted Caroline’s protest.

  “Gotta go,” Gofer said. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  Caroline watched Gofer climb into the sedan. When the car drove away, she hefted the small backpack with Hannah’s belongings that Gofer had given her and went in search of Ethan and Hannah. She met them at the steps to the back porch.

  “Are you hungry?” Caroline asked. “I have milk and cookies.”

  “No, thank you,” Hannah said.

  Caroline had never known a child to turn down cookies—unless she was ill. “Are you feeling all right?”

  Hannah gazed up at her with sad eyes. “I miss my mommy.”

  “Of course you do, sweetie.” Caroline cast a what-do-I-do-now look at Ethan.

  “Ready to see your new room?” he asked Hannah.

  “Okay.”

  Hannah’s response was automatic and without enthusiasm. Caroline feared if someone asked the child to jump off a bridge, her response would be the same numb cooperation.

  “You take Hannah upstairs,” Ethan said. “I need to get something out of my truck.”

  Panicked at being alone with the child, Caroline watched Ethan sprint through the yard to the front of the house. With a deep breath, she offered Hannah her hand. “Your room’s upstairs, just across the hall from mine.”

  Hannah placed her hand in Caroline’s, and, in spite of the growing heat of the summer day, the girl’s fingers felt like ice. She was probably scared to death. Caroline knelt and wrapped her arms around Hannah’s stiff, unyielding body. “It’s going to be all right, sweetie. You’ll see.”

  Hannah didn’t move, didn’t speak.

  Frustrated at her inability to break through the child’s frozen demeanor, Caroline pushed to her feet and grasped Hannah’s hand again. “Come with me.”

  Hannah tagged along obediently, passing through the dining room and entry hall with barely a glance at her surroundings. The soles of her raggedy tennis shoes squeaked as she climbed the stairs beside Caroline. In the upstairs hall, Caroline moved ahead of her to the front room and flung open the door with a flourish.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  She hadn’t expected a squeal of delight but was disappointed wh
en the sunny room didn’t elicit even a smile.

  “It’s very nice, thank you.” Hannah said.

  “It’s all yours,” Caroline said. “You can arrange it any way you like.”

  Hannah glanced around, taking in the book-filled case beneath the window seat, the cheerful yellow walls, and the white teddy bear propped against the pillows.

  Hoping for a response, any response, Caroline prodded, “Do you like it?”

  Hannah lifted her sorrowful gaze. “It’s a very big house.”

  Caroline felt helpless. Hannah was grieving and frightened, and Caroline didn’t have a clue how to help her.

  “It is a big house,” she agreed, “but I’ll always be here with you, so you’ll never be alone. And tomorrow Daniel will come to visit.”

  “Really?” A hint of a smile lighted her eyes, then was gone. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” And if, for any reason, Daniel didn’t come, she and Hannah would track him down. Caroline would do whatever it took to bring the light back to those big, sad eyes.

  Boots clamored up the stairs, and Ethan appeared in the doorway, bearing a huge package covered with bubble wrap and tied with a big yellow ribbon.

  “This is for you,” he told Hannah.

  The girl took a step back. “What is it?”

  “It’s a welcome-to-Blackberry-Farm present. Want to open it?”

  He set the package on the window seat, and Hannah approached it with caution. She glanced at it, then back at Ethan, who encouraged her with a nod. “Just untie the bow, and you’ll see what it is.”

  Hannah reached out tentatively and pulled one end of the yellow ribbon. The bow unfastened and the bubble wrap fell away to reveal a basket filled with items. Hannah looked at the contents, then turned back to Ethan with a puzzled frown. “What are they?”

  “Bubbles,” Ethan said with a smile. “All kinds.”

  Caroline could have hugged him. Apparently when he’d wandered off while she’d been shopping for bed linens yesterday, he’d purchased the items to assemble into Hannah’s gift basket.