As Cory deftly wrapped the bandage around her arm, he could feel her relax in his hands. Slowly he wound the cloth around her wrist until her joint was properly supported. He glanced toward his father, who sat watching them with unveiled interest. He found himself suddenly uncomfortable.
“You said before that you had a horse,” he said to his father to break the silence. “What kind was it?”
“An Arabian stallion.”
“Nice. I have two Arabians.”
The old man nodded. “They’re a beautiful breed. Can they ever run.”
Cory smiled—finally something in common. Arabians were bred for the desert, and they seemed to get a second wind midstride. There was no freer feeling than flying across a field on horseback.
“Where did you board your horse?”
“At a ranch just outside of town. Sometimes Ruth would come with me, but she and Soldier didn’t get along.”
“No?”
“He was a jealous brute.”
Cory smiled. He knew the type. Horses could be territorial. He tucked in the end of the tensor bandage and turned his attention back to Eloise.
“How does that feel?”
“Better.” She raised her eyes to meet his; then her gaze flickered back down to her arm. “Thank you.” She pulled her hand back, examining his work. “You could be a field medic.”
Cory chuckled. “I learned how to do that on calves. You’d be surprised how similar the human arm is to a cow’s leg.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not.”
“You’re better company,” he offered with a grin. “And definitely smarter.”
She rewarded him with a spontaneous laugh, and Cory felt happy at making her laugh. This wasn’t a laughing matter, though, and he didn’t think she understood exactly what could happen to her out there. That scared him. His grandfather always said that there was nothing more dangerous on a ranch than a bored city kid.
“Could I ask you a favor?” Cory said.
“Sure.”
“Stay out of the fields. I don’t think my insurance could take it if we didn’t find you in time.” He smiled, but he was far from joking. The thought of her getting hurt when his phone was out of range, or worse—he couldn’t take a chance on that.
“I’m sorry about this,” she said.
“I know. We don’t have safety precautions set up for city folk wandering around. We work here.”
She gave him a quick nod. “Understood. I’ll keep to beaten paths.”
“Thanks.”
Cory pushed himself to his feet. “I’d better get back to work. Robert, maybe we could talk some more when I get back.”
His father nodded, and Cory pulled a hand through his hair. This wasn’t easy with his father watching him. He didn’t know what to say, and he had a feeling that the old man could see how he felt about Eloise. He nodded in his father’s direction and dropped his hat on his head.
He left Eloise sitting at the kitchen table, her gaze averted as she ran her fingers over her bandaged arm. He didn’t want to see the look in her eyes. He had a feeling he’d embarrassed her in front of his father, but he didn’t know how to say it any differently. If she were a man, he’d have told her off. But she certainly wasn’t a man, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the protective feeling that was rising up inside him.
Instead he had found himself flirting with the nurse—the woman who, as Nora so aptly put it, was a whole lot of pretty and not enough country. Logic had to reign.
Chapter Six
Cory hopped into the old blue Chevy pickup and turned the key. The day’s work clamored for attention in his mind, but he couldn’t quite forget Eloise and that strained wrist. He’d like to think he was mostly annoyed by the inconvenience, but that wouldn’t be true. She’d been monopolizing his thoughts more than he liked to admit over the past couple of days.
As he crunched over the gravel road that led around the horse barn and paddock, he breathed in the sweet scent of hay in the warm afternoon sunshine.
She’s not a ranching kind of woman.
If today’s adventure didn’t serve as a timely reminder of that fact, nothing would. But still, Eloise followed him around in his thoughts. Details like the way she glanced up at him, a smile twitching at one corner of her lips, or the scent of her perfume and shampoo mingled together—never mind that her intoxicating scent would attract every pestering insect within three yards. Even with her shortcomings, he couldn’t push her out of his mind.
Not that he’d been trying all that hard, if he had to be truthful.
As Cory pulled up to the big barn, he waved at one of the farmhands, turned off the ignition, stepped out of the truck and slammed the door shut with a bang.
“Zack is around back,” the farmhand called. “One of the cows is having trouble calving.”
Changing his trajectory, Cory angled around the barn and let himself through a side gate. Zack wasn’t far from the open barn door, a cow in the head gate as she stamped her feet through another contraction. Zack turned when he heard Cory approaching.
“It’s a hard one,” he said. “She’s been stuck at this stage for half an hour now. Wait, what time is it?”
“Almost two.”
“An hour,” Zack amended. “I was about to give her a hand. She’s not going to do this one on her own.”
Cory headed to the sink just inside the barn and scrubbed up before coming back to give his partner a hand. He put a hand on the cow’s flank, her muscles rippling under his touch.
“Easy, girl,” he murmured. “We’ll help you out.”
The cow huffed out her breath as another contraction came on, and Zack took hold of the calf’s feet, already emerged, and gave a long, hard pull. Cory watched the cow and when her contraction ceased, he said, “Okay, stop.”
Zack obeyed, and when the next contraction came, he worked with the cow’s natural rhythms to move the calf steadily down the birth canal.
“I’m glad I saw her,” Zack said through gritted teeth as he worked. “She tried to go off by herself. Didn’t want my help.”
Cory moved in to take over from his friend, grasping the calf’s feet as Zack stepped back, breathing hard. He crouched down and pulled.
“I thought you’d bring that pretty redhead out with you today,” Zack said.
“That pretty redhead has a name,” Cory muttered, pulling steadily on the calf until he could see a nose. When the contraction ended, he stood up straight.
“Sorry. Eloise.” Zack looked contrite. “Where was she?”
“In a field. Robert’s wheelchair was stuck, sunk right down. She couldn’t pull him back out.”
“In a field?” Zack gave Cory an incredulous look. “What was she thinking?”
Cory shrugged. “No idea.”
While he knew that Zack could make some hilarious jokes about city slickers being off the concrete, he found himself protective of Eloise, despite her obvious city naivete. When it came right down to it, he didn’t want to make her the butt of jokes, and he didn’t like the idea of anyone else laughing at her, either.
Zack patted the cow’s flank. “She’s bearing down.”
Cory took hold of the feet and pulled again, and this time the calf’s head emerged. With one final pull, the calf slid out, the birth complete. Cory bent to rub the little animal with straw, while the cow mooed softly from her restricted position in the head gate.
“I’m letting her out,” Zack said, and Cory moved back to give the cow freedom to come see her calf.
Both men sat down, watching the cow lick her calf as it lifted its head for the first time, looking around.
“Eloise is a real city slicker, isn’t she?”
“Seems like.” Cory shook his head ruefu
lly. “But she’s here for my father. She’s not here to run a ranch.”
“Would be nice if she survived the week, though.” Zack chuckled.
Cory shot his friend an irritated look and turned his attention back to the cows. The calf was strong, despite the long delivery, and it had already staggered up onto wobbly legs and found the mother’s milk. The cow lowed softly to the calf, which was sucking noisily, milk dribbling down its neck.
“They’ll be okay now,” Cory said, and the men went to wash up in the barn sink.
After a thorough scrubbing, they took another look at the new calf. Some of the other cows had wandered closer to see the new addition to their herd, and Cory squinted into the sun, keeping an eye on the situation. The last thing he needed was an injured calf.
“You’re interested in her,” Zack said, leaning back against the fence.
Cory looked confused. “Who?”
“Eloise.” Zack grinned. “And with you playing it so cool, I know I’m right.”
Cory didn’t answer. Instead he hooked his boot up on the fence rail in front of him and kept his eyes locked on the cow and her new baby.
“Eloise is smart,” Zack went on. “Well, when she isn’t getting stranded in fields. She’s sweet, and she’s got a great laugh. And you do talk about her a lot.”
“You brought her up, not me.”
“This time,” Zack responded. “There’s something going on there, and you know it.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does,” his friend retorted. “How can this not matter?”
“This ranch is my life.”
“I’m still not seeing a problem,” Zack replied.
“I do. Deirdre was the same.”
“I’ve seen Deirdre rope a steer. Those two are nothing alike.”
“Deep down Deirdre wanted a city life. She wanted New York and whatever they’ve got out there. You think Eloise is so different?”
“Have you asked her?”
“Didn’t have to.”
Zack chewed the side of his cheek. “I heard from Deirdre last month.”
“What? You did?”
“She got married to some guy in New York.”
That hit Cory like a punch in the gut. “Married, huh?”
So some other guy had gotten her down the aisle. Good to know. He clenched his teeth and turned his back on his friend.
“Do you still love her?”
Did he? Cory’s competitive nature was goaded at the thought of another guy succeeding where he had failed, but that didn’t constitute love.
“No,” Cory said. “But it still makes me wonder what I lacked.”
“A city job, I guess.” Zack shrugged. “I never took her seriously when she talked about New York and all that. I mean, she was a ranch girl. I never thought you could take the country out of her.”
“See?” Cory spread his hands, his point made.
“Eloise isn’t Deirdre, though.”
Cory sighed. “Look, it’s more complicated than that. Eloise just came out of a divorce. Her husband left her for another woman.”
“Left her?” Zack turned to give Cory an incredulous look.
“I know. The guy was obviously an idiot, but it...” He paused, looking for the words. “It blew her confidence.”
“Let me get this straight.” Zack wiped his hands on his jeans. “You’re gun-shy from Deirdre leaving you at the altar, and she’s gun-shy from that husband of hers taking off with some other woman—”
“I’m not gun-shy, I’m wiser.”
Zack put his hands up. “Call it what you will.”
Cory hated how well Zack could sum up his life in twenty-five words or less. For once, he’d like to have a best friend who was equally surprised at how things turned out.
“Her husband sounds like a real piece of work. He kept things going between both women, then left his wife for the pregnant girlfriend. She never saw it coming,” Cory explained.
“He did the opposite of your dad.”
“Yup.” His father had left the pregnant girlfriend, and his son, and chosen his wife. Was that the better choice? Probably. Although the best choice would have been to stay entirely faithful to his wife.
The cow was nursing her baby successfully, and the men turned toward the truck. They walked in silence until they got to the vehicle and opened the doors. Then Zack said, “So tell me straight: You’re interested in her, right?”
“It wouldn’t be smart.”
“I didn’t ask if it was smart. I asked if you were attracted to her.”
Cory shrugged and eased into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut with an extra-hard bang. “When I settle down, it’ll be with a woman who will run this ranch with me. I know what’s good for me, and it’s not getting all entangled with someone who wants something else.”
Zack hopped into the passenger side and gave his friend a grin. “Preaching to the choir, Cory. But she’s cute.”
Putting the truck in gear, Cory drove toward the chores that still awaited them. Work never stopped on a ranch, and he was thankful for that. When work kept him busy, he had less time to think about the woman who waited back at the house.
* * *
Golden light from the lowering sun flooded into the library, and the shadows outside lengthened as the sky turned soft pink. The pasture looked greener in the lowering light, and the horses stood in silhouette against the sunset, silently grazing.
The side door opened and Cory’s boots sounded against the floorboards in the mudroom; then the scrape of boots against a boot brush came through the walls. Eloise pulled herself from the window and listened to the direction of his movements. After a minute, his footsteps came down the hallway and there was a tap at the door.
“Come in,” she called.
Cory poked his head inside. “I thought I’d find you here.”
She smiled. They’d seen each other at dinnertime. Mr. Bessler and Cory had a chance to talk, and she’d made herself busy, attempting to give them some privacy. “I don’t know if your father said so, but he told me that he was glad he got to talk with you earlier.”
“Yeah, it was good.” Cory stepped into the room. “He told me a little bit more about his accounting practice. It isn’t the same as ranching, but the management part has some overlap.”
“Speaking of management, how is Chad doing?” she asked. The man was legitimately ill, albeit by choice. Cory had called her that afternoon after checking on him, and he had been considerably better, but not exactly upright yet.
“He’s pretty much recovered now.”
“Well enough to fire?” she asked tentatively.
“He’s leaving first thing in the morning. Zack has already found a replacement for him, which is a blessing, because good ranch hands aren’t easy to come by.”
Eloise had had no doubt that Cory would fire the man when she saw the look on Cory’s face that morning. The cowboy was kind, she realized, but a man with a limit nonetheless. She wasn’t sure if she’d have the guts to hire and fire that way. She’d likely feel sorry for the man and end up accepting a fraction of the work he should have been doing out of pity. Cory seemed to have the strength to face a difficult situation head-on, and he didn’t seem to pity men with hangovers in the least.
“Is that hard?” she asked. “Firing someone, I mean.”
“Yes and no.” He shrugged. “I gave him ample warning, but it’s not the fun part of the job, that’s for sure.” Cory’s gaze fell on the small canvas she held in her hands and he moved closer, the scent of the outdoors still clinging to his clothes.
“Is this the painting of my mother’s hands?” he asked.
She reluctantly handed him the canvas. It was no bigger than a book,
a simple representation of his mother’s hands with the dirt still under the nails. Those hands spoke volumes to Eloise, of years past, inhibitions forgotten, strength gained ever so slowly. Sometimes she wished she could skip ahead ten or fifteen years to a time when she’d have a bit more of that hard-won strength without having to endure the trials to get there. But God didn’t work that way. He didn’t take you over the storm, Eloise knew. He took you through it.
Cory mutely held the small canvas, and for a moment she wondered if he didn’t like it or thought it trite. Perhaps it was too personal and she had overstepped by attempting it.
“Cory, I hope—”
He turned toward her, a variety of emotions showing in his rugged features.
“Can I keep it?” His tone was deep, and he raised his dark gaze to meet hers.
Eloise nodded, honored at his request. She hadn’t been looking for a compliment, but Cory’s wanting to have her art in his home was a more meaningful compliment than any words might be.
“You capture so much in the tiny details,” he murmured. “Those lines on her knuckles, the cuticles, that tiny break in one nail... It’s like having her here, in a way.”
“Hands say so much about a person.” Eloise didn’t know how to explain what she put into her art—that was why she painted. It represented the things she couldn’t put into words.
“Why hands?” he asked.
Eloise shrugged. “It’s too hard to capture a complete person—there is so much I don’t know. So instead of trying to grasp all of her, I focus on one small part. Like hands. Or eyes. Maybe a pocketknife, or a wedding ring. The smaller the focus, the more I see.”
A slow smile spread over his face and he nodded. “Are you hungry?”
The question caught her by surprise. Her stomach rumbled and she laughed self-consciously. “I didn’t eat much at dinner.”
“Come on, then.”
Cory set the painting on the mantel of the fireplace next to the photo of his mother, then led the way toward the kitchen.
“How was your day?” Eloise asked.
“One of the cows had a difficult birth,” Cory said, opening the fridge and pulling out ingredients. “They’re both fine, though. One of the herds was spooked by some coyotes, so I put another cattle hand on duty—” He stopped and gave her a bashful grin. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
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