Western Hearts: A sweet, cowboy romance (Cowboys of Aspen Valley Book 1)

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Please, please, he prayed as he moved slowly behind them, keeping them moving. If they turned around now, they would scatter, and it could easily take all day to get them herded up again.

  The cows at the head of the herd sped up the pace. It was going to be all right, Kip thought.

  Suddenly one of the cows in the middle turned her head and decided to make a break for it.

  Right toward Nicole.

  She stood, frozen, as another cow followed the one trying to get away. This was it. They were hooped.

  Then Nicole waved her arms and yelled, and to Kip’s surprise, the cow stopped and rejoined the herd now heading into the corral.

  “Isabelle, get over the fence and make sure they don’t get into the pasture,” Kip called out.

  “Are you kidding?” Isabelle said. “I’m going back to the house.”

  “Oh, stop being such an ornery stinker and just do what your brother said,” Nicole shouted back at her.

  Kip didn’t know who was more surprised at Nicole’s outburst, him or his sister.

  At any rate, Isabelle scrambled over the fence and headed off the cows that were eyeing the wide-open spaces of the pasture. Then, thankfully, the cows were all in the corral and Kip closed the metal gate, locking them in.

  “So, is that all of them?” Nicole’s voice sounded a bit shaky as she joined them.

  “Those were only a small part of the whole herd. Now I have to saddle up and find out where they got out and then make sure that the rest of the cows are where they’re supposed to be.” He dragged his hand over his face, thinking.

  “I know this might sound dumb, but is there anything I can do?”

  Kip glanced down at her. Some wisps of hair had pulled loose from her ponytail and were curling around her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and she had a smear of dust on her forehead. She looked a bit scared yet, but she also looked kinda cute.

  “Not really, but thanks for all your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “And Isabelle,” Nicole said wryly.

  “Thanks for bawling her out. Nice to know I’m not the only one doing it.”

  Nicole laughed at that. “I’m really good at bawling out little sisters. I did it all the time with Hayes.” She stopped there as an expression of deep sorrow slid over her face.

  Kip wondered what she meant by her comment. What created that look of desolate sadness?

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Puzzlement replaced the sadness. “Why do you ask?”

  He frowned. “You looked so sad. I’m thinking you’re remembering your sister. I guess I know what it feels like.”

  She looked up at him then. Their gazes locked and held as awareness arced between them.

  Without thinking of the implications, he laid his hand on her shoulder, as if to cement the connection.

  She looked away, but didn’t move.

  A yearning slipped through him. A yearning for things to be different between them. Involuntarily, his hand tightened.

  “Nicole—”

  “Uncle Kip, Uncle Kip. Auntie Isabelle said the cows got out…Did you get them in?…Can we help…Do you have to ride the horses?”

  The boys burst into the moment with a barrage of questions and Nicole stepped away. As Kip lowered his hand, he experienced a surprising sense of loss. Then he gave his head a shake.

  What was he thinking? This woman was simply another problem in his complicated life.

  And he had fences to fix.

  Kip dragged his attention back to his nephews. “Yeah. I’ll be saddling up and heading out.”

  “Can we ride with you?” Justin asked.

  Kip shot him a warning glance. The little guy knew better.

  “Why don’t we go and check out the puppies,” Nicole said, taking the boys by their hands. “Have they gotten any bigger?”

  “Silly, you just saw them yesterday,” Justin said.

  “I know, but puppies grow very fast and change quickly,” she replied. “I would hate to think that we missed out on something fun that they didn’t do yesterday.”

  Kip was sure her comment was off the cuff, but it reminded him of all the changes he’d experienced with the boys. All the changes she and her father had missed.

  You can’t start going there, he reminded himself. You have a lawyer working to make sure the boys stay here. She has a lawyer to make sure the boys go with her.

  Very straightforward. Cut-and-dried.

  Yet just before she left, she shot a glance over her shoulder, her hair brushing her cheek. Then she gave him a quick smile and things got confusing again. Thankfully he was going out on his horse. Things always got clearer for him when he was in the saddle.

  He headed out to the tack shed, and as he opened the door the scent of leather and Neatsfoot oil washed over him. He halted as recollections of his brother surfaced from the corner of his mind where he thought he’d buried them.

  He and Scott racing each other through pastures. He and Scott training the horses, racing the chucks, dust roiling out behind them, the horses’ hooves pounding, the adrenaline flowing.

  He grabbed the door frame, steadying himself against the onslaught of memories.

  Dear Lord, help me get through this, he prayed, bowing his head as pain mingled with the memories. He missed his brother. He missed their time together but mixed with the sorrow was the sad reality that he missed the freedom he’d had before his brother died.

  The insidious thought crept into his mind. How much easier and freer his life would be if he didn’t have the boys. How much simpler. The obligations of their future hung on his shoulders as well. Providing for them, taking care of their future.

  Kip reached for his saddle and jerked it off the stand, shaking his head as if dislodging the thought. They were his brother’s boys, his mother’s grandchildren. They were not a burden.

  A few minutes later he had saddled his horse, Duke, and was riding out, leaving the ranch house and all the tangle of family obligations behind for a while.

  Again, he sent up a prayer for clarity of thought, and as he rode, as the sun warmed his back and the wind cooled his face, peace settled into his soul.

  This was how he used to spend his Sundays, just riding around or working with the horses.

  Now work piled on top of work, and quiet time for himself was as rare as a date, something else he hadn’t had in months. He let his thoughts dwell for a moment on his horses. He should work with them. For their sake, if not his.

  But when?

  He looked around him, at the hills surrounding the ranch. A group of cows lay on one hill, beyond them, another bunch. Thankfully, they hadn’t decided to follow the wayward cows that had managed to get out.

  Though he still had the same amount of work as he’d had before, riding out on his horse loosened the tension gripping his neck. Checking fences was one of his favorite jobs. Just him and his horse and the quiet. Oh, how he missed the quiet.

  The irony was, he wouldn’t have been able to do this if it wasn’t for Nicole being with the boys and watching over his mother. Much as he hated to admit it, since she’d started visiting, some of his responsibilities had eased off his shoulders.

  At the same time, Nicole presented a whole nest of problems that complicated his life. He thought again of that moment they’d shared a moment ago.

  He wished he could shake it off. Wished he could get her out of his mind.

  “I’m just a lonely old cowboy,” he said to Duke as he dismounted and stapled up another loose wire. “I’ve got responsibilities out the wazoo, and once this thing is settled with the boys, my life can go back to normal crazy instead of super crazy.”

  Duke whickered, tossing his head as if sympathizing with him.

  Kip checked the wire and got on the horse again. Duke started walking, the sound of his muffled footfalls creating a soothing rhythm.

  Except he couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that things would not be settled with the b
oys. Not without a fight.

  “C’mon, Auntie Nicole. Hurry up.” Tristan’s disembodied voice came from somewhere ahead of her on the narrow trail through the trees.

  Nicole slowed down and stepped over an exposed rock on the trail, then pushed past a clump of spruce trees.

  “Slow down,” she puffed, pushing aside a spruce branch that threatened to blind her. “I can’t go as fast as you.” Not for the first time was she thankful she had bought some running shoes. Keeping up with the boys would have been impossible in the leather boots that she, at one time, had considered casual wear.

  When she’d arrived this afternoon for her visit, the boys had grabbed her and insisted she come and see something important. They wouldn’t tell her what, only that she had to come right now.

  She caught a glimpse of Tristan’s striped T-shirt as she clambered over a fallen tree, then clambered over another one.

  “Are you coming?” she heard Justin call out.

  “Yes, I’m coming.” She drew in a ragged breath, then, finally, she came to a small clearing. She ducked to get under a tree and as she straightened, looked around.

  She couldn’t see the boys. “Where are you guys?”

  She heard giggling above her and looked up.

  Two grinning faces stared down at her from a platform anchored between two aspen trees.

  “What is this?” she asked, smiling back at the boys.

  “It’s Uncle Kip and our dad’s Robin Hood tree house.” They stood up and then disappeared again, only to reappear higher up on another platform. “Come up and see.”

  “Is it safe?” she asked. If Kip and his brother had been the architects of this tree house, then it had to be at least twenty years old.

  “Yup,” was all they said.

  Nicole walked around and found a ladder constructed of branches leaning up against the tree. She tested it and then slowly climbed up. When she got to the platform, she saw Justin, about six trees over, swinging from a rope.

  “Justin, would you stop that,” she called out.

  “It’s okay, Auntie Nicole,” Tristan assured her. “Uncle Kip said we could play here. He helped fix it up so we could.”

  Nicole stepped onto the platform and, holding onto an overhanging tree branch for support, looked around.

  She saw ropes and bridges and catwalks and more platforms strung between trees edging the clearing. A veritable hideout and a boy’s dream come true. “You said your Uncle Kip made this?”

  “Yup, he did,” Justin called back, still swinging from the rope. “His dad helped him and our dad.”

  Nicole leaned against the tree behind her and tried to imagine Kip as a young boy working on this tree fort with his father and his brother.

  A smile played over her lips as she watched the boys clambering from one structure to another like monkeys. Again, she envied them their freedom. How many young boys wouldn’t love to have their life?

  “Come on back now,” she said, glancing at her watch. It was getting close to the end of her visit. Yesterday she had stayed a bit longer and Isabelle had made a snarky comment, which she had ignored.

  At the same time, she didn’t want to cause any problems. Especially not when the legal status of the boys seemed to be, at least in Kip’s eyes, in limbo. She wondered if they had done the DNA test. When it could come back.

  She pushed the questions aside. For some reason, she wasn’t in as much of a hurry as she would have been.

  Seeing the boys out here on the ranch every day for the last few days had created a hesitancy to take them away from this. Bring them to the city.

  “Can’t we play a little longer?” Justin called out.

  “No. We have to get back.” Nicole tried to sound firm, but failed. She wasn’t in any rush to go back either. The smell of the woods, the sun filtering through the canopy of leaves above and the gentle stillness of the woods eased away the tensions of the day.

  She had spent most of her morning on the telephone playing telephone tag with caterers, trying to get a better deal from the venue and sweet-talking various sponsors for the foundation’s annual fund-raiser.

  More than that, she was having so much fun following the boys around the farm and exploring with them. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d simply taken time off and done nothing constructive whatsoever. Even her holidays were usually slotted around conventions or business trips with her father.

  She eased out a sigh and slipped down the tree, wrapping her arms around her knees as she watched the boys clamber from tree to tree, yelling and daring each other to go higher, farther, faster.

  “Look at me, Auntie Nicole,” Justin called out. “I’m flying.”

  “Me too,” Tristan said, determined not to be outdone.

  Nicole watched and applauded and made appropriate noises of admiration.

  Reluctantly she glanced at her watch again. Now she really had to go.

  “C’mon, boys. Let’s get back to the house,” she said, getting to her feet.

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  “Nope. We have to go. Now.” She was already twenty minutes past her visiting time. All she could do was hope Kip was still busy welding and wouldn’t notice. She climbed down the ladder to let the boys know she meant business and reluctantly they followed her.

  “Can we come here again tomorrow?” Justin asked.

  “Of course we can.” Nicole looked behind her once more with a smile. Maybe she’d stop in town and pick up some treats. They could have a picnic.

  Nicole heard the hum of the welder coming from the shop as they got nearer the house and felt a surge of relief. Kip was still busy.

  “What’s that smell?” Justin said, wrinkling his nose.

  “Smells like—”

  “Something’s burning,” Nicole said. She dropped the boys’ hands, took the stairs two at a time and burst into the house.

  Mary was leaning on the counter with one hand as she struggled to pull a pan out of the oven with the other.

  Smoke billowed out of the oven and the smoke detector started screeching.

  “Let me do that,” Nicole said, grabbing a tea towel.

  The boys followed her into the kitchen, hands clapped over their ears and yelling questions.

  Ignoring the boys and the piercing shriek of the smoke detector, Nicole rescued a blackened casserole dish from the oven, set it on top of the stove and turned the oven off.

  Then she supported Mary and helped her back to her chair.

  “Open the back door,” she called out to the boys above the ear-piercing shriek as she slid open the window above the sink. “Where’s the smoke detector?” she yelled at Mary.

  Mary pointed to the hallway off the kitchen and Nicole grabbed a couple of tea towels. She flapped the towels at the detector, the noise piercing through her brain. Justin and Tristan joined her. “We’ll help you,” they called out, waving their hands at the ceiling.

  Nicole laughed at the sight, but kept flapping. Then the smoke detector abruptly quit and peaceful silence fell on the house.

  “That was very loud,” Tristan said, digging his finger in his ear, as if to dislodge the noise.

  “You boys were big helpers,” she said, patting them on the head as they walked back to the kitchen.

  “Thank you so much,” Mary said. “I could smell something boiling over for a while from my bedroom, but I thought Isabelle was watching the casserole.”

  “I was,” Isabelle said, finally making an appearance from upstairs. “I had to make a phone call.” Isabelle glanced at Nicole. “What are you doing here?”

  “What you should have been doing.” Nicole brushed past the sullen girl, and moved to the oven, wincing at the streaked, black goop baked onto the side of the casserole dish. From the condition of the dish and its contents, the phone call had been lengthy.

  Nicole found a knife in the sink and pried the lid off the pot, making a face at the burnt mess inside. “There’s not much left of this.”


  “Well, so much for dinner,” Mary said with a heavy sigh. “Isabelle, did you forget to turn the oven down after the first ten minutes?”

  “I guess.”

  Nicole glanced around the kitchen. Potato peelings and carrot scrapings filled the sink. The counter was covered with bowls and empty plastic bags and pots. She glanced back at Mary, who was struggling to her feet as if to start making supper all over again. The poor woman looked exhausted.

  Nicole tried to imagine herself in the same situation. However, living with her father, they had a housekeeper and a cook who came in three times a week. And she didn’t have a son, a teenage daughter, and two young boys to cook for.

  She made a sudden decision. “Don’t worry about supper,” she said, shooting a glance at Kip’s sister. “Isabelle and I will pull something together.”

  “What?” Isabelle exclaimed.

  “Why don’t we go through the refrigerator and see what we can do?” She gave Isabelle a sweet smile, as if challenging her to protest.

  Isabelle simply rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Can we help too?” Tristan and Justin asked.

  “Of course,” Nicole exclaimed. “You guys will be our biggest helpers.”

  At least this way she could spend the rest of her time with the boys, Nicole thought.

  She didn’t want to think how Kip would react. He would just have to accept it.

  Chapter Eight

  What was Nicole still doing here?

  Kip glanced at his watch, pushing down a beat of anger. Six-ten. She was supposed to have left over an hour ago.

  He forced his frustration back as he toed off his boots on the verandah, then stepped inside the house to speak to Ms. Williams.

  The first thing he noticed was the clean counters. Then an unfamiliar but savory smell.

  His mother sat in a chair directing Tristan on how to set the knives by the plates on the table, which was covered with a tablecloth. He didn’t even know his mother owned a tablecloth. Isabelle was washing dishes and Nicole stood beside her, wearing an apron, her hair tied back, drying a bowl. She handed the bowl to Justin, who sat on the counter beside her and he put it in the cupboard.