Her Convenient Cowboy

by Lacy Williams

Davy’s shoulder brushed hers as he asked for the small crock of salt. When she handed it to him, her flour-dusted fingers tangled with his.

  The familiar motions of baking biscuits and the companionable presence of the man beside her were a comfort.

  After Rose’s papa had remarried, she’d never been as close to him again.

  Jamie had never cooked with her.

  “Are you frightened my family will turn you out?”

  She should have known he would only delay the conversation when she hadn’t answered him earlier.

  “You said they wouldn’t.” But a tremble in her voice betrayed her.

  “My pa is prob’ly the most compassionate man I’ve ever known. He’ll help you.”

  But help didn’t necessarily mean he’d give her a place to stay.

  She mashed the flour and liquid together, allowing her fingers to express the jagged emotions that she wouldn’t.

  Perhaps the long-buried memory of cooking with her papa had overlapped with reality, and that was what had her emotions on such a precipice.

  He made quick work of chopping the potatoes and tossed them into the skillet with the already sizzling onions.

  She used the side of an empty jar to roll out the dough, and then turned it upside down to cut the biscuits. She slid them into the oven, a blast of heat from the coals heating her face. When she straightened, he held a wooden spoon in his hand, but was turned toward her, too close, too appealing with his scent of man and very faintly of horse.

  “No matter what happens I won’t abandon you.” His voice was so serious that she had to believe him.

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach as his words sank into her consciousness, as his steadiness touched her soul.

  She could trust him so easily... And that was the problem. He might promise his help, his friendship now, but she knew he planned to spend the winter in this remote cabin.

  She would be on her own, and she must find a way to get used to the idea.

  * * *

  Davy felt Rose pull away, but he couldn’t explain why she wanted the distance. Nor could he explain the disappointment that struck him. He only knew that her withdrawal was a very faint reminder of his uncle’s rejection eleven years ago, the night he’d been forced out of the only home he’d known.

  He’d thought to ease her, to continue developing their tentative friendship by helping with the meal, but she’d shut him out.

  It shouldn’t matter.

  When the weather cleared, he would deliver her to his family down the mountain. By the time he came through the winter with the cattle and was able to return home in the spring, she might’ve moved on from Bear Creek. Or found someone else.

  If this was to be the last night of their friendship, he didn’t want to waste it.

  He gave the frying potatoes and onion a stir.

  She had responded earlier when he’d spoken of his family. He would try that tack again.

  “I think you’ll like my sister Breanna.”

  Her head didn’t come up from where she peered down at the table, but her head tilted slightly in his direction.

  “Does she enjoy cooking?” Rose asked.

  He laughed—couldn’t help it. “Nah. Breanna thinks she’s one of the boys. She rides out and herds cattle, fixes fence, even helps with the branding. Drives my ma crazy.”

  Her head had turned toward him, he could see from the corner of his eye but he kept his attention on the frying potatoes.

  “Your mama let’s her do all that stuff?”

  He shrugged. His sister was more stubborn than any two of his brothers put together. “She mostly gives Breanna free rein, but occasionally she has to put her foot down.” Such as when Breanna had wanted to winter up here with him.

  “Ma thinks that when Breanna gets interested in courting she’ll settle down and quit actin’ so wild.” He had his suspicions that it would take more than a man to settle Breanna’s love of the outdoors and her independent streak.

  “My sister is horse crazy. What kinds of things were you interested in before you got married?”

  She shrugged, her eyes focused across the room and maybe in the past. “My stepmother didn’t allow me to ride. It wasn’t necessary with available transportation in St. Louis.”

  He didn’t miss that she didn’t offer up what kinds of things she’d liked to do for herself.

  “So maybe you’re horse crazy and just haven’t discovered it.”

  She snorted softly. “I can’t ride, remember?”

  “Just because you’ve never been taught. You’re gonna let Breanna ’n me teach you how, right?” He didn’t know where the words had come from. He wouldn’t have much time for things such as riding lesson, not until spring.

  She looked down at herself. “In my condition?”

  She was so skittish, as bad as a mama horse with a newborn foal. Who had taught her to be that way?

  “You get around just fine. We won’t let ya gallop off alone or anything.”

  She responded to his grin with only a tilt of one corner of her lip.

  “I supposed we’ll have to see.”

  He supposed it was better than an outright no.

  The yeasty smell of baking biscuits wafted to him, making his mouth water. He opened the stove and found them golden brown and perfect. He took out the pan and set it on the counter.

  She joined him, and they dished up the food together, this time in companionable quiet.

  “Do you really think I’ll be able to find a job?” she asked softly as he stuffed the last bite of biscuit into his mouth.

  He swallowed, watching her closely, seeing the tremble in her hands that she tried to hide, the flare of vulnerability in her eyes.

  “If not in Bear Creek—that’s the nearest town—my ma has family connections down in Calvin. We’ll find ya something.”

  She smiled a trembling smile and rose, clearing his plate before he could stop her.

  “You wanna play checkers again? I’ve got a Bible in my bag, if you’d rather read.”

  The plates clanked together. “You’d let me borrow your Bible?”

  That was answer enough. “Sure. I’ll even listen if you’ve got a hankering to read aloud.”

  She pulled a face, but when they both settled into the chairs he’d pulled over to the fire she surprised him by accommodating him.

  When she’d begun yawning every few sentences, he took his leave. Walking out into the brisk air revived him. Brought him out of the warm, joy-infused mindset he’d fallen prey to.

  He craned his neck, looked up into the dark canvas of the sky painted with bright starbursts so numerous that he couldn’t even attempt to count them. The storm had passed, leaving only a clear night behind.

  They’d passed a pleasant evening. Much more pleasant than he’d expected when he’d thought he would be up here alone.

  He felt protective of Rose. Didn’t want to leave her, even at his parents’ home where he knew she would be cared for.

  She was still skittish, still didn’t like talking about herself much. But wasn’t the feeling that had grown between them tonight, the companionable warmth, what he’d dreamed of all those lonely nights in his bunk?

  He’d already thought that this wasn’t the right time to start caring for someone. And his feelings for Rose were already passing mere friendship into more intimate territory.

  Something about Rose called to him. She was so timid, frightened all the time. Maybe it was his protective instincts crying out that she needed help.

  He was having trouble imagining her timid self fitting in with his loud, boisterous family.

  But he had the winter herd to think of. He couldn’t stay down at the homestead with her. He felt as though he was being torn in two, th
inking of her going on from here alone, and thinking of the cattle that couldn’t survive the long winter up here alone.

  Maybe his pa would have some advice. If they got down off the mountain tomorrow, he could ask Jonas for help figuring out what to do.

  So why did a big piece of his heart feel as though the decision already had been made?

  Chapter Six

  Early morning light was seeped through cracks in the lean-to walls when Davy woke the next morning. One of the horses shifted, feet crunching in the thin layer of sweet-smelling straw.

  But he was strangely hopeful.

  He bent his elbow and rested his head on his arm, staring up at the thin lines of light. The brightness and the absence of wind probably meant the storm had stayed gone.

  Which meant it was time to take Rose down the mountain.

  The solution had come to him in the darkest part of the night, when dreams were born or realized. He wanted to give Rose the security it was obvious she needed. And get the family he longed for. Marriage would solve both of the problems. If he could convince her.

  They rubbed along reasonably well. The ride down to the homestead would take several hours, and it would be his chance to make a case for them.

  A noise from inside the cabin startled him from his relaxed state. A cry.

  Rose.

  He sat up, fighting off his bedroll as his horse whickered at the sudden movement.

  Another cry came. Rose.

  He stuffed his feet into his boots and pushed up off the ground.

  He burst out into the cold, bright morning, squinting. The sun glared off several inches of powdery snow.

  He shouldered into the cabin and found Rose sitting up on the edge of the bed, clutching her stomach. Tears streamed down her face; her expression was drawn with pain.

  Davy didn’t hesitate. He went to her and knelt at her feet. The position would have been too intimate for anything other than an emergency, but this clearly was one. The room was chilly around him. Had the fire gone out in the night?

  “What happened?” he asked. He was afraid to touch her for fear of somehow making it worse.

  “S-something’s wrong,” she gritted through her teeth.

  No joshing.

  “The baby?” he asked. Was it coming now?

  Uncertainty stalled him.

  What could he do? He’d seen animals birthing babies, of course, working on his pa’s ranch all these years. But a human baby was something altogether different. Would Rose even let him help with something that private?

  “I don’t know,” she gasped. “Pain is...is bad.”

  “The snow stopped in the night,” he told her. “Let’s ride down the mountain to the homestead. Maybe Maxwell and Hattie will be at home. If not, my ma can help while one of the boys fetches a doc.”

  Her eyes clouded even above the pain. This close, nothing kept him from seeing the deeper hurt behind what she was feeling right now. Someone must’ve hurt Rose bad to make her this skittish.

  “I ain’t gonna let anything bad happen to you,” he told her in a low, steady voice like he might use to calm a jumpy horse.

  She half laughed, but the sound wasn’t joyous; it was filled with terror and maybe regret.

  Then another pain seemed to take her. She gasped. Her face contorted. She gripped her stomach with both arms, bending over as much as she could around her belly and rocking on the edge of the bed.

  “Gimme a minute to saddle up,” he told her, but he wasn’t really waiting for her approval. He made sure she wasn’t going to fall out of the bed and rushed back outside. The white dog followed on his heels and darted toward the woods.

  “Hey! Come back here!”

  His boots crunched in the snow as he took several steps after the animal, but it disappeared in the undergrowth. He didn’t have time to hunt for it, not with Rose in trouble. It was used to life on the ranch, and he’d make sure it could get into the lean-to.

  Hurrying there next, he wished for a sleigh. It would be much more comfortable for her riding down the mountain bundled in a sleigh instead of on horseback where she would feel every step the horse took. But nothing had prepared him to find her up here in the cabin.

  It took a couple of minutes to saddle up his mount and turn out the packhorse in the corral. He’d be back soon enough, and the weather should hold mild.

  He brought in a bucketful of snow and used it to put out the few embers of fire that hadn’t burned out in the night.

  He went back to the bed. “I’m gonna put your shoes on, all right?” It was too cold for her to go without.

  She just moaned, rolling her head on the pillow.

  He took her stocking foot in his hand and slipped on the first shoe. The leather was worn, some buttons nearly frayed off. When was the last time she’d had a new pair?

  He’d brought his bedroll in with him and wrapped her in it, plus the old quilt from the bed. Then he scooped her into his arms and shouldered outside.

  It took some doing, but Davy managed to get on his horse with Rose still tucked in his arms.

  He settled in the saddle, and gathered up the reins, his left arm around her shoulders. He looked down into her face, still pinched with pain.

  “All right?”

  She nodded, her chin brushing against the blankets he’d tucked around her.

  It was a perfect day to ride out and check the winter herd, spread some hay for them, but Rose’s desperate need trumped his animals.

  His horse shifted sideways. The animal was antsy, raring to go after being cooped up in the lean-to for three days. He clucked to the horse, and the well-trained animal started forward with a burst of speed that he had to curtail. This area close to the mountain was treacherous and he held the animal to a walk. A pristine blanket of snow covered the rocky terrain and the animal could step in a depression and injure its leg. Such an injury could be fatal.

  Davy would carry Rose home on foot if it came to that.

  She was silent, wound tight as a bronc under its first saddle, body gone tense with pain. They were close enough that he could hear her small intake of breath when the horse shifted and Davy couldn’t adjust in time to keep her from jostling.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Wish I could make this a little easier on you.”

  He could feel her emotions rising with each breath she took. “It’s too soon,” she sobbed softly. “Something’s wrong.”

  “You don’t know that,” he said. “It could be indigestion.”

  “It doesn’t feel like indigestion.” She gasped.

  He didn’t want her thinking like that. He’d sat with Oscar once when his brother’s wife Sarah had been in labor and knew how important it was for a woman to stay calm.

  But he was also a little worried because she thought the baby shouldn’t be here yet. Would the baby be all right if she was in labor?

  “You know all about my pa and how he adopted us, but you should know I can understand feeling like you’ve been abandoned.”

  Was it his imagination or was she breathing slightly easier as she listened to him? He didn’t like talking about his childhood, but he needed her to relax as they traversed down the mountain. It would take some hours before they reached the homestead.

  So he kept talking, even though the topic was painful. “I don’t remember my real parents. My uncle raised me until I was fourteen. He took me in when I didn’t have anyone else. Then a few days after my fourteenth birthday, he decided he’d provided for me long enough, and he told me I wasn’t a part of his family anymore. He sent me on my way.”

  He said the words matter-of-factly, trying to keep the pain of the past at bay. Jonas and his brothers, and later Penny and the little kids had been a balm for the young man who’d ached for a family. But admitting t
o the truth of his past brought it all back—along with the ache for a family. A place of belonging.

  She was quiet, but another pain must’ve hit her because she tensed up again.

  Then she asked quietly, panting slightly, “What did you do when your uncle kicked you out?”

  “It was coming on to summer. I remember it was getting on to dusk when I stepped out of my uncle’s shack. He’d let me bring a blanket and my extra shirt. That was all I owned.”

  He guided the horse around an embankment and she shifted against his shoulder. She was so slight, even with the babe’s girth pressed between them.

  “I didn’t know where to go. My uncle never darkened the door of a church, or I would’ve known I could prob’ly find help there.”

  He went on, “I had some idea about finding work or an apprenticeship, but all the businesses in town were closed for the night, except for the saloon. I knew better than to go down there.”

  He took a deep breath. Wondered if it would make him seem less of a man to say what was coming next. “I was real scared.” He cleared his throat.

  “Of course you were,” she said, a hint of understanding in her tone. “You were fourteen. Still a child.”

  He couldn’t help the smile that tipped one corner of his lip at her defense of him, even if he still felt ashamed of that old fear.

  “I wandered the streets and it was getting darker and darker. I didn’t know where I was gonna sleep. Where my next meal was coming from. I didn’t know anything.”

  “It must have been terrible,” she whispered. Her jaw moved against his shoulder; his chin brushed her temple, his scruff getting caught in the fine hairs there.

  “Then I heard a shout and this gangly kid gets pushed out of an alleyway. A skinny kid they called Ricky.”

  He guided the horse around an overhanging branch laden with snow. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world, but he wanted to avoid getting a branch-load of snow dumped down the back of his coat.

  “He was scrapping against three bigger boys. All of them lived on the streets, from what I could gather. Ricky had filched one of their suppers, and they intended to beat it out of his hide.”