A Cowboy to Marry

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  She set her mug down in turn. “But you have all those McCabes.”

  He took her hand in his and turned it palm up. “And no wife or kids of my own.”

  Libby couldn’t imagine how anyone as kind, handsome and smart as Holden would ever go through his entire life alone. “That will change.”

  He traced her life line with his index finger. “That’s what everyone says.”

  And yet he remained skeptical.

  “Once we start dating again, actively looking, we’ll find what we want,” Libby declared.

  She knew what she wanted. Someone just like Holden.

  He let go of her hand and studied her. “You really think so?”

  “We have to.” Restlessly, she got to her feet and paced over to the window, where she looked out at the dark night. “Because I can’t go on this way, Holden.” Her voice caught. “I can’t live the rest of my life without family ties.”

  He rose and walked toward her, all empathetic male. “You could become an honorary McCabe.”

  Libby knew Holden wanted her to have everything she would have if her husband hadn’t died, but this was getting ridiculous. “You really are taking this ‘a life for a life’ thing too far.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked. “What’s wrong with having a place to go on every holiday?” he challenged, his gaze roving her face. “A group to hang out with?”

  “How would your parents feel about that?” Libby retorted.

  He shrugged and slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “They want me bringing a new woman into the tribe.”

  “As your wife,” she pointed out.

  He tilted his head to one side. “You’re my girlfriend. Well, practice girlfriend.” Mischief glimmered in his expression. “In the loosest sense of the word.”

  Libby ignored the tingling sensation in her middle. “It doesn’t matter how serious we are. Or aren’t.” She couldn’t bear to experience anything that only invited more loss, as this eventually would.

  Holden clearly felt otherwise.

  “Girlfriends get invited to family events,” he stated sagely. “Friends, too, for that matter.”

  Libby rolled her eyes. “Friends who have no place to go.”

  Holden put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m serious, Libby.” He waited until she looked him in the eye. “There is no reason for you to spend this Christmas and New Year’s or any other alone.” His grip tightened protectively. “I want you to spend it with me and my family, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Misery warred with the building excitement within her, but Libby forced herself to be practical. “You’re going to have to,” she retorted.

  He dropped his hands, stepped back. “Why?”

  “Because, Holden, I know what it’s like to start out as one thing—a beloved niece, a girlfriend, a wife—and then turn into more of a liability than either of us could ever imagine. I don’t want to be that again. Not for you. And certainly,” she finished heavily, “not for your entire family.”

  LIBBY WAS JUST GETTING ready to leave for work the next morning when the doorbell rang.

  Thinking it might be Holden—whom she’d parted with awkwardly the evening before—she went to answer the door and found Holden’s mother there.

  “I hope you don’t mind my dropping in this way,” Greta said. She had a coffee shop bag in one hand, a cardboard beverage holder in the other.

  Libby ushered the elegant older woman inside. As usual, Greta’s curly silver-blond hair was impeccably coiffed. She had on a trim denim shirtdress and a festive green Christmas cardigan that complemented the bright smile on her face.

  “Holden said you liked vanilla lattes and cranberry scones, so that’s what I brought,” she said warmly.

  Libby took her coat, then led her into the formal dining room. “I do. Thank you.”

  They chatted a moment about the weather, and the thus far fruitless efforts to get the county officials to fund repairs on the library.

  “But I know you didn’t come over here at eight-thirty in the morning just to discuss this,” Libby said. “What’s on your mind?”

  Greta sipped her latte. “I understand you and my son are dating.”

  “Very casually,” she replied.

  “So you don’t see this leading anywhere…?”

  In her wildest dreams? Libby clamped down on the fantasies their two kisses had inspired. If she was smart, she would not allow herself to go there.

  “Realistically? I don’t see how it could,” she finally replied.

  Greta nodded. “Holden told me as much, too.”

  Disappointment spiraled through Libby. That was the problem with even casual dating, she thought. It could still leave you hurt and wanting—needing—more. Especially at this time of year…

  “Holden said he invited you to spend the holidays with us.”

  And not just one Christmas and New Year, but all the holidays from here on out.

  Libby worked to contain her lingering sadness. “That’s right. He did.”

  “And?” Curiosity filled his mother’s eyes.

  Libby reminded herself that leaving Laramie was the only way she would ever be able to build a life for herself, and get everything she wanted, like a husband and children. “I know Holden’s heart was in the right place, that he feels for me because I have no family of my own left. But…”

  When she couldn’t go on, Holden’s mom filled in the rest. “You think assuaging guilt and making good on a deathbed promise to your late husband aren’t reason enough to bring anyone into the family, even unofficially.”

  Leave it to her to cut straight to the chase.

  Libby sighed, relieved to be able to be forthright, too. “It sounds like a good solution now. And it probably would make me feel less alone during the holiday season.”

  “But…” the older woman prompted.

  Libby grimaced. “But what happens when the rebound relationship Holden and I have embarked on ends, and he’s with someone else?” She shrugged and pushed the unpleasant thought away. “I can’t see his next girlfriend being comfortable having his old girlfriend—even a decidedly platonic one—at family gatherings. Can you?”

  Greta relaxed. “To be honest, I don’t see that as a problem. Our family has grown so much and our get-togethers have gotten so large…. Plus, by the time that happens, you might very well have your own special someone to bring with you, too. Or you might be at your new love’s family gathering instead of ours.”

  Oddly enough, Libby did not see that as a comfort, either. Although it should be….

  Greta continued gently, “What I do see as a continuing difficulty is the confusion Holden feels about how he is supposed to look after you in Percy’s absence. Right now, the responsibility is all on his shoulders. Clearly, the obligation is weighing on him.”

  Libby began to see where this was going. “But that might change if he felt others were looking after me, too.” In the loving, caring, all-inclusive way that the McCabes were famous for…

  His mom nodded. “If you became part of the McCabe tribe, you’d have any number of people you could call on, at any time, to help and support you in any way you needed.”

  The burden would be lifted from Holden’s heart.

  Finally seeing a way out of the morass they’d found themselves in for two long years, Libby concluded, “Reassured, Holden would be able to move on with his life. He would be able to be happy again.”

  Greta smiled. “You both would.”

  “I THOUGHT LIBBY WAS coming with you tonight,” Shane McCabe said when Holden arrived at the Annie’s Homemade food-testing facility.

  Because the family had a lot to accomplish that evening, and dozens of McCabes to do it, the gathering was being held in his aunt Annie’s place of business. The large space was outfitted with dozens of picnic tables and still had plenty of open floor. Outside, where most of the men were at the moment, trucks were being unloaded, Christmas trees trimmed, sp
are greenery carried inside.

  Trying not to be disappointed that another of their “dates” had taken a detour, Holden pulled on his leather work gloves and told his dad, “Scheduling conflict. I’ve got a foal that still needs hand-feeding. Libby had library hours at her home. So she’s meeting me here.”

  A fact that had deprived him of picking her up and driving her in his truck, like a real date, Holden mused in disappointment.

  Shane set a Christmas tree upside down. “How is the sale of her business going?”

  Wade and Travis joined them and began trimming trees, too.

  Holden picked up a small handsaw, appropriate for the job. “As far as I know, she’s getting everything she is asking for from Jeff Johnston.”

  Holden’s dad and two brothers stopped what they were doing and exchanged surprised looks.

  Holden exhaled, glad to have the three accomplished businessmen to use as a sounding board. “Yeah, I know. Generally, when something seems too good to be true, it is. And whether she wants to come right out and admit it or not, Libby intuits that, too.”

  Silence fell. The tree trimming and bundling resumed.

  Holden wrapped a net around a spruce ready for transport to the Kiwanis Club’s holiday lot. “I’ve done some research, checked into Johnston’s other acquisitions. He seems to have the golden touch when it comes to expanding a business and taking it onto the internet. Neither Libby nor I have been able to find any formal complaints lodged against him that would indicate he’s done anything even borderline unethical or illegal.”

  “And yet—” Shane added another trimmed tree to the pile “—something about this situation just doesn’t sit right, does it?”

  “I don’t like the way he’s gone behind Libby’s back, talking to all her employees, promising them the moon so they’ll get on board with the sale,” Holden admitted.

  Travis sawed the lower limbs off a tree. “Not to mention chatting up all the ranchers in the area, to make them believe he would do a much better job of meeting our needs than Libby ever could.”

  “Intense competition in the business world is expected,” Wade pointed out as he piled the shorn strips of greenery onto a wheeled cart. He shook his head in mute disapproval. “Stabbing rivals in the back is not.”

  Which in a way, Holden thought, was exactly what Johnston was currently doing. If his intentions were of the nasty, competitive ilk…

  Holden struggled to be objective, but it wasn’t easy when Libby’s well-being was at stake. “I’m trying to be fair. To consider whether Johnston is simply being proactive—and attempting to reassure everyone, in advance, that his intentions are as honorable as he professes. Or—” he grimaced, considering the alternative “—is Johnston’s behavior an indication that he is a hell of a lot more cutthroat than we know, and Libby really needs to beware?”

  Another concerned silence fell.

  “What do you want us to do?” Shane asked.

  Wade was a multimillionaire investor, his uncle Travis and his dad prominent members of all the ranching associations in the state. Among the three of them, Holden knew they had a powerful, knowledgeable network of acquaintances. “Use your connections. Ask around. See if there’s anything you can find out about Johnston that might be a red flag.”

  His dad guessed the rest. “And while we’re at it, don’t mention to Libby what we’re doing.”

  Holden ignored the faint hint of disapproval coming from all three older men. Determined to keep his promise and watch over Libby, whether she liked it or not, he said drily, “You may have heard she doesn’t like being protected.”

  “We’ll do what you ask, son,” Shane promised with the understanding of a man who had been happily married for over thirty-five years. “But don’t be surprised if Libby doesn’t thank you for it.”

  Chapter Eight

  “If I didn’t know better, I would think I just walked into Santa’s Workshop,” Libby teased, when she finally met up with Holden and he escorted her inside the Annie’s Homemade testing facility.

  The McCabes gathering was a beehive of activity that included every conceivable yuletide activity. Wreaths were being made for the Kiwanis Club. Gift baskets assembled for the Blue Santa organization. Stockings sewed for the Community Chapel bazaar.

  Everywhere Libby and Holden looked, there were children playing, adults laughing. Christmas carols resonated in the background, adding to the festive mood, and the sweet smell of sugar cookies scented the air.

  Recognizing them immediately, Paige and Kurt’s two-year-old triplets rushed over to greet them. They looked adorable in red velvet dresses, white tights and cute black boots with knit uppers. Arms outstretched, the little girls shouted, “Holden! Libby!”

  Grinning, Holden scooped up Lori and Lucille. Libby picked up Lindsay. Dark curls bouncing, cherubic faces grinning blissfully, the toddlers chatted away, talking in two-or three-word sentences.

  “So Santa is coming?” Libby asked, a wave of maternal contentment flowing through her as she cradled the little one in her arms.

  All three girls nodded enthusiastically.

  Looking as happy as she felt, Holden asked, “Are you going to bake cookies for him?”

  There were more nods, along with shouts of “cookies!”

  The notion planted, the girls wiggled out of their arms and raced over to the buffet tables, where their mom was helping Annie McCabe replenish the plates of refreshments for the volunteers.

  Paige and Annie waved at them before turning to give the triplets the cookies they were asking for.

  Holden’s mother welcomed Libby and him with warm hugs. “Thanks for coming,” she said with a beleaguered sigh, running a hand through her curls. “As you can see, we need all the help we can get. Do you want to eat or work first?”

  “Work,” Holden and Libby decided in unison.

  Greta gave them a considering glance. “Okay, then. I’ll put you right to work. We have a lot of toys that were donated for the children’s home in San Angelo that need to be wrapped, so I’ll put you on that, Libby. Holden, we have some saddles that are going to the boys’ ranch in Libertyville, that need to be cleaned and reconditioned…so I’ll leave that to you.”

  “Why so much all at once?” he asked.

  It was usually a little crazy this time of year, but not this chaotic… And why were things being done in such a way that would keep the men and woman largely separated this evening? he wondered in frustration. Why couldn’t his mother have set things up so he could be by Libby’s side throughout the evening?

  Not that Libby looked all that distressed about being left on her own…

  Oblivious to the disgruntled nature of his thoughts, Greta answered, “Everyone in the family wants to get together. We all want to help the community. And like every year, it seems all the civic and charitable organizations want everything done at once.”

  “I know what you mean,” Libby sympathized. “Every weekend in December you have to choose where you’re going to go, who you’re going to help. And with the library in flux this year, too…”

  “A lot of events are held simultaneously,” Holden noted.

  Her mind already searching for a solution to the problem, Libby murmured, “It’d be nice if they could coordinate it so more people could participate in all the events.”

  “Wouldn’t it?” Greta agreed wistfully, looking hopeful that Libby’s idea would eventually see the light of day. “In the meantime, Holden, the saddles are out in one of the barns. Your dad can direct you. And, Libby…right this way…”

  Three hours later, the tasks were completed, gifts stored or dispersed, sleepy children carried out.

  Disappointed that they hadn’t spent more time together—hadn’t even been able to grab a bite at the same time—Holden walked Libby out to her car. He knew it was late. Nearly eleven. But he still wanted to spend time with her. The kind they would have if they’d been on an actual date.

  “Want to come by my ranch and se
e the foal? It’s been thirty-six hours since she was born, so I can remove the muzzle and let Willow have her first feeding with her mama.”

  An event that for Holden was always a thrill, no matter how many horses he had bred and ushered into the world.

  Luckily for him, Libby did not even hesitate. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW MUCH stronger she seems,” Libby murmured as Holden removed the muzzle.

  They watched the foal and mare nuzzle each other in the warm and cozy straw-lined stall before getting down to the business of nursing.

  Holden tenderly stroked the mother and her newborn, then paused to adjust the Velcro straps on the foal’s warming blanket. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he stepped back.

  Admiring how gentle he was with the horses, and how much they seemed to love him, Libby murmured, “Willow is certainly happy to be able to nurse at her mama’s side.” You could practically feel the bliss radiating from them both.

  Holden moved closer to Libby and folded his arms. “One of the best things about being in the horse-breeding business is the constant reminder of the wonder and the fragility of life.”

  She turned toward him, her shoulder brushing his in the process. From this angle, his profile was even more rugged, his expression poignantly tender. She couldn’t help but think what a good father he would be.

  “Although,” Holden added, “as in most professions, there are certainly days I don’t enjoy.”

  Inhaling the scents of saddle soap and leather clinging to his skin, she said, “It must be really hard on you when things go wrong.”

  A pained expression crossed his face. “It is,” he admitted ruefully.

  Libby thought about the child he had lost to miscarriage, and the child she had wanted and never been blessed with.

  The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the understanding in his eyes, prompted her to confess, “Tonight was hard, too.”

  Holden swung around to face her. “Being around so much of my family?” he asked. “’Cause I know we McCabes can be overwhelming, especially en masse….”